Elsewhere, but not Elsewhen
by The Mad Mad Reviewer
Summary: Thestrals can go a lot more places than just wherever you need to go. Unfortunately for Harry Potter, Voldemort is more than aware of this, and doesn't want to deal with Harry Potter anymore.
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

**CHAPTER 1**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

1x1x1x1

"A fascinating wonder, prophecies, don't you think?" hissed Voldemort. He

held the blue orb in his hand. "Bellatrix, be a dear and make sure no one comes down here. Mister Potter, shall we have a listen?"

"Not going to kill me first?" asked Harry, trying to be at least a little defiant. It was all he had left, thinking of his friends.

"No, actually," said Voldemort. "Well, not yet, at least. How many times have I tried, and failed? No, instead, we take a listen."

The blue orb lifted out of his hand, and a spectral voice that Harry unfortunately recognized began to speak.

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES... BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES... AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT... AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES... THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..."

"Not bad, not bad at all," said Voldemort. "Either must die at the hand of the other… You know what that means, Harry?"

Harry glared, shifting in the chains that were wrapped around him.

"It means, if we never kill each other, neither of us can die. It means we have to get you nice and far away." He waved his wand, crushing the prophecy sphere into dust and then levitated Harry. Harry returned to struggling against the chains, even as his own wand was resting in Voldemort's robes.

"What to do, what to do…" said Voldemort as he stared at the thestral feeding on Ron's corpse. Harry cursed him a few times. "Ah. Of course. I knew I let them in here for a reason." He whistled. "Over here."

The thestral looked up from it's gruesome meal and trotted over to Voldemort. Voldemort conjured a saddle on the reptilian horse, and then dropped Harry onto it. The chains adjusted themselves, tying him to the animal. Harry felt Voldemort slip something into his pocket.

"Can't have you falling off, now can I? Thestrals are interesting creatures. That fool, Hagrid, loved the poor dears. But much like the Lovegood girl, they just aren't all there. Not here, not in any place, really. And because of that, they can travel much farther than anyone truly realizes." Voldemort stopped, his wand forming a complicated pattern at the Thestral. "Hello, Dumbledore… and Sirius Black, yes? I'm sad to say I've won, I've won, the day is done. The boy will be safe." Harry found his wand stuck to his hand. "From me, from you, from all of us. And, most of all, from fulfilling the prophecy. Goodbye, Harry Potter."

Harry watched as Voldemort waved- He _waved at Harry_, as the thestral took flight straight at the wall. Harry rolled his eyes, thinking this wasn't much of an escape plan, when the wall fell away, and cold flooded Harry. He shivered, feeling ice form on his face and nose, on his entire body as his breath flowed across his face, cracking on his skin. He closed his eyes, feeling the cold trying to freeze them. He felt his tears harden on his face even as he lost all feeling, and then there was a burst of warmth. And a familiar growl of anger.

He couldn't open his eyes, but his immediate thought was to wonder why Voldemort would send him to the Hogwarts infirmary.

He didn't have time to think of an answer, however, as he was too busy passing out.

2x2x2x2

"Exposure. Honestly, how on Earth does a boy pass out from _exposure_ when it's bloody _June_," grumbled Madam Pomphrey. "Undoing frost-nip is bad enough, but _exposure_."

"Voldemort did it," mumbled Harry.

"V-V- You-Know-Who?" asked Madam Pomphrey. "What would You-Know-Who want with you?"

Harry opened his eyes, and stared at Madam Pomphrey. She stared back, then jumped.

"You look just like Harry Potter!"

He stared a little longer, before he said the only thing that he could in this situation.

"I am Harry Potter."

"You're Harry Potter? Trust me, I know Harry. He's in here enough. You'd need to gain about six inches and three stone to be Harry. You've got his and his mother's eyes, but you definitely aren't him. He's no where _near_ as beaten up as you are. I'll have to get Albus or Severus down here to help sort you out. You just get some rest, now, alright?"

Harry stared at Madam Pomphrey for a minute, before closing his eyes, rubbing them, then opening them again and continuing to stare at her as she wandered away, muttering about confundus charms.

Harry shook his head, and leaned back on the bed, and ignored her suggestion. Instead, he thought about the prophecy. _Born to those who had thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. _Had his parents defied the Dark Lord three times? He frowned. He was definitely born as the seventh month dies. July 31st, that much was obvious. _Mark him as his equal?_ Again, obvious. He had a scar from Voldemort, didn't he? But _a power he knows not_? What could that be? Harry sighed. _Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives_ wasn't obvious, either. It was to confusing, so he stopped thinking about it, and concentrated on right now.

What was going on now, then? Poppy recognized him, but said he wasn't Harry Potter. How could he not be Harry Potter, when he'd always been Harry Potter. _Much farther than anyone truly realizes._ Where was he, really? Hell, _when_ was he?

A black-haired girl with violet eyes, dressed in a regular school uniform with red-and-gold Gryffindor tie walked into the infirmary as Harry stood up and began to look for his wand.

"Hey, you alright?" she asked.

"Fine," said Harry, putting on his glasses. He checked his clothing, and found it intact.

"No, really, are you alright?"

"Is Dumbledore the headmaster?" asked Harry absently as he walked

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't he be?"

"What year is it, then?"

"1996. If you're wondering what day it is, it's Saturday the 15th."

"June?" asked Harry, furrowing his brow.

"Yes. You know, you look a lot like that git, Potter."

"So I've been told," said Harry, as he walked to Poppy's office. "My wand?"

"You're staying right there, young man, until Dumbledore or Severus comes along and sorts out that confundus charm. I'm not even going to ask how Potter managed to transfigure you into him, but I know he's going to have detention with Hagrid halfway through summer for it."

"I can save both him and me a lot of trouble by saying I am Harry Potter, and that I need to talk with Dumbledore now, and that… wait-" He turned around and looked at the girl behind him. Her hair was well styled over her face, somewhat covering her violet eyes. "I don't recognize you."

"Rachel Marx," said the girl. "And really, you look nothing like Harry. I mean, your hair is much messier, and you're half a foot short for him. That, and you're freakishly skinny. Do you eat _anything_? And those clothes, I've seen better on tramps."

"Yeah, well I don't recognize you at all. Poppy, can I please have my wand?"

"Not until we undo what ever has been done to you."

"Rachel, _finite_ me, please?"

"_Finite_," said Rachel, then glanced at her wand. "Could be a potion?"

"Polyjuice lasts an hour, and I've been here at least that long," replied Harry.

Poppy was silent at this.

"Alright, suppose you're right, and you're Harry Potter. Why do you need to talk to Dumbledore?"

"Because I have a bloody question about a bloody prophecy, and bloody Voldemort just booted me out of my bloody fucking reality after _killing all of my bloody fucking friends!_" shouted Harry.

Poppy didn't see the cracking of the unbreakable window panes, but she did hear and glance at them. The spider web of cracks from where the boy gripped the door was obvious, and he was shaking with the power he'd just released. She noticed Rachel had already stepped back and was pointing her wand at him. He stopped, and took a calming breath, even as Poppy started to speak.

"Now, I think that's all the more reason to take a calming pot-"

Then the first crack was heard behind them.

"Poppy!" shouted a red-haired woman. "Kingsley's hurt bad, and we've got more incoming." Harry glanced once at the bleeding man and stepped out of the way

"On it! Rachel, get to the cabinets, and get me what I ask for. You, whatever your name is-"

"I'm out of the way," said Harry, knowing he wouldn't be much help here.

Harry stood and watched as more people portkeyed into the infirmary, half a dozen all told, some injured, one or two dead.

Voices shouting about the Dark Lord himself, and a battle between him and Dumbledore in the Ministry Atrium built a story of horror similar to the one Harry had just left.

"All over that stupid prophecy," muttered a red-headed woman, standing back from the chaos. She'd gravitated over to Harry, realizing he'd picked the one spot that was out of the way of everything else, but still looking over the entire ward.

"A prophecy?" asked Harry.

"Hm, oh you didn't hear that from me, please don't mention it."

"Is it a prophecy about the Dark Lord?" asked Harry.

"I- it- it might. What do you know about it?"

"The whole ruddy thing," grumbled Harry. "Which is why I need to talk to Dumbledore."

The red-haired woman turned and looked at Harry, even as he watched the activity in the ward. He recognized an injured Tonks being fed potions by the black-haired girl. Poppy was still over by Kingsley, putting his leg back together again.

"Who are you?" she asked

Harry turned and looked at her. His eyes widened with shock and he stepped away.

"Harry?" she asked, furrowing her brow in confusion. "What happened to you?"

"L-lily?" asked Harry, "You can't be Lily Potter, she's dead."

"What?" asked Lily. "James!"

"I'm busy!" said a black-haired man leaning over someone else. Vance, maybe?

"Find Harry!"

"Remus! Check a map and find Harry!"

Remus Lupin pulled out a piece of parchment, glancing at it.

"Lily, he's right next to you? Wait, Harry? That's not Harry." Remus's wand was already out, and a jet of red light was sent at the boy. He grabbed Lily and threw her into its path. He stole her wand, and stopped another stunning spell with a quickly cast protego.

The boy immediately ran for it, charging out into the hall, Remus chasing after him. The boy sent another stunner behind him as he ran through the halls, dodging students.

"Stop him!" shouted Remus, hoping someone would try.

"Stupefy!" shouted a girl's voice. The boy was fast, snapped out a protego to block it and snapped off his own stupefy faster than Remus could blink, taking down the girl - Hermi-something he recalled. The boy kept running then glanced back like he'd seen a ghost.

"Hermione?" he said, skidding to stop, then turning around. "Hermione?" he asked again. "Rennervate." He looked at Remus, then back at the bushy-haired girl as she stood up, and glared at Harry. "Moony?" he asked. Remus stopped- they'd never told anybody those names, never at all. "What's going on?" he asked Remus.

The boy was stock still, tears were in his eyes. He looked to much like Harry, except… except… the bags under his eyes. How long had it been since he'd last slept?

"Honestly, some people," muttered the girl, walking off in the direction of the library.

He was shorter, skinnier, like he hadn't been feed a proper meal at all. Who was he? And why did he look so much like Harry?

"Come on, Harry," said Remus. "Let's… let's get you up to the Headmaster's office," he said, realizing it was just around the corner. "We'll wait for him there, alright?"

"Yeah," said Harry, as they both walked up to the massive stone gargoyle.

"Jelly-Belly," said Remus, and the gargoyle moved aside. They rode the escalator up to the top, and opened the door. The office was empty, except for the phoenix, resting on his perch. Fawkes looked so young, but Remus knew he wasn't near one of his burning days. Had Dumbledore really faced Voldemort in the Ministry? It seemed likely, now.

Harry walked into the office, and stared about it, ignoring the portraits of previous headmasters, before dropping into one of the chairs and pulling his knees up to his chin. He was holding it all in, just like James would.

"What's going on, Moony? I see Lily, I see James, I see Hermione, but they're all dead, Moony," he whispered. "Is Ron alive? Neville? Luna? Ginny?"

"Is Sirius dead?" asked Remus, curious, wondering who he was talking about.

"No," said Harry. "Sirius isn't dead. He wasn't in the ministry, with me. It was the six of us, in the Ministry, and it was all a stupid trap."

"Why were you in the Ministry?"

"Because it was a trap. I thought Voldemort was torturing Sirius, trying to get into this door. And when I got through the door, it was all a trap. There was a prophecy, and as we were leaving, Voldemort was waiting. Killed them all so quickly, but left me alive. Wrapped me up in chains, and wanted me to listen to the prophecy."

"What about the prophecy?" asked Remus.

"_Born as the seventh month dies, marked as his equal,_" said Harry.

"Marked?"

Harry brushed aside his hair. Remus saw the lightening bolt scar above his right eye, and frowned.

"Lily died for me, Remus. He came for me, and Lily died for me. She can't be alive, she's dead."

At this, Remus was took a pinch of floo powder, and pushed his head into the flame.

"Yes, I found him. We're in the Headmaster's office. Sirius, can you get up here? Maybe he'll talk to you, too. Lily, can you send up Dumbledore as soon as you find him? … James, find Harry… no, really, make sure he's alright… thank you."

Remus pulled his head out of the fire, and sat down next to Harry. A moment later, Sirius stepped through the flames.

"He really does look like Harry," he said. "Bizarro Harry, maybe. Where'd you get so skinny, eh?"

"You don't look like Sirius," said Harry, only his eyes flicking to Sirius.

"Is he serious?" asked Sirius, looking at Remus.

"No, you're Sirius," mumbled Harry.

"Dear Merlin, he does know me," said Sirius. "Only I could have trained that into someone. Alright, I'm getting Lily and James."

"Lily and James are dead," said Harry. Sirius stopped.

"Er- what? I just saw them in the infirmary."

"Dead. They died. Voldemort killed them."

Sirius shivered as he realized the kid didn't even flinch a bit when he said that name.

"When did You-Know-Who kill them?"

"Halloween, 1981. I remember my dad yelling, saying he was here. Then he died. Lily was in the room with me, screaming to take her instead of me. Voldemort told her to stand aside. Then there's a flash. Then he's laughing, and there's another green light."

"How can you remember that?" asked Remus, running the math in his head.

"Dementors. It's why you taught me the Patronus charm third year."

Both Sirius and Remus were utterly silent.

"I don't want to know," said Remus, finally.

Harry continued to sit, motionless, tears streaming down his face.

The flame turned green, and Lily stepped through.

"Er- Lily, what're-" started Sirius.

"Dumbledore needs to spend at least the entire day at the Ministry cleaning up. Voldemort splattered Fudge across half the damn atrium when he realized we caught him out, and I want to know what the hell is going on."

"You find Harry alright?" asked Remus.

"Yes. Wasn't even up yet. So… anything?"

"His life is one heaping pile of shit piled upon another heaping pile of shit," said Sirius.

Harry began to shake, his body racking itself with shivers, but not emitting a noise.

"Are- are you alright?" asked Lily, as she realized blood was dribbling from his lip. Tears were streaming down his face, mixing with the blood pooling on his chin and dripping down. She gently took her wand back from his hand and pulled him from the chair. He flinched as she did, but she was too surprised at how light he was to notice, even as she set him on the floor and held him close.

"Shh, it's alright now," she said, realizing he still hadn't uttered a single sound. What had happened to him, that he didn't cry out? That he'd tear apart his own lip to not make a single sound?

James entered the office, and then looked down at his wife comforting a young man on the floor. Remus stood up, motioned Sirius to follow, and everyone went back down the spiral escalator.

"What's going on?" asked James.

"We're not sure yet," said Remus.

"Best guess, then," said James.

"He's from another dimension, and his life has been shit upon by an entire flight of dragons," said Sirius.

"It can't be that bad."

"Prongs, the kid's having a complete mental breakdown, and he's tearing apart his own lip to make sure he doesn't make a sound doing it," said Sirius.

"He knows I'm Moony," said Remus. "And he knows Sirius' god damn puns by heart."

"Alright. So he might actually be… he might be a different Harry or something. That doesn't explain how he got here, though."


	2. Chapter 2: Meet the Family

**CHAPTER 2**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

_Will you cease your whining?_ said a high, regal voice that Harry recognized.

_Fuck you, fuck your mom, and I hope you die in a fucking fire, you worthless fucking cunt,_ thought Harry.

_Not the best insult I've ever heard, but it's a good start. I thought I'd check in later, see if I could find out if you're still alive, but your whining seems to have opened the link. By the way, my mother's dead, but what's a little necrophilia among enemies? Seeing as how I have no concern about sending pain through this link, I thought I'd ask what you were doing, and to quit it._

_Can't see what I'm doing?_ growled Harry.

_No. The link's too weak for actual images at the moment. Flashes of emotion, and with a little effort, speech, but not much else._

_Piss off._

_Hmm, I suppose. I figure I'll bother you again in a few days. I thought I'd mention I killed your Godfather when he made an attempt to duel with me in the Ministry Atrium. I don't think he realized I'd sent you away, not killed you. Dumbledore is still good for an invigorating fight, but it's only a matter of time. I'm hoping Snape will report his mental breakdown within the next few days. Eitherway, ta ta!_

2x2x2x2

"Just let it out," whispered Lily. This close, she could hear the gasps as he cut off his sobs. How much practice did he have doing it? She'd seen her Harry cut back his sobs, trying to play the part of being macho and not crying. This Harry was crying, but was staining her shirt red tearing apart his lip from not making noise. She could feel the thin, wiry muscles, and he was the same age, why was he so much smaller?

His breathing evened out a little, tiny hiccups in it stating he was still holding it in.

"Come on, let's get you to Poppy," said Lily, helping Harry stand up. "Dumbledore's still cleaning up the Ministry, so let's just get you to the infirmary and get some sleep, alright?"

"No," murmured Harry, even as he followed Lily through the floo, and then fell flat on his face in a cloud of soot.

"There you are," said Poppy. "How is he?"

"Give him a full work-up," said Lily. "I think he is actually Harry Potter, but… but he's not my Harry Potter."

Poppy nodded, and levitated him onto an open bed.

"What happened to his lip?" asked Poppy.

"He bit it so he wouldn't cry out."

Poppy glanced at Lily's blood stained shirt, and scourgified it, then cleaned his face and mended it.

"Rachel, calming and dreamless sleep."

"Right," said Rachel, fetching the potions as Poppy began casting diagnostics.

"Merlin, he's been half-starved for a long time. I'd say he's been abused at the very least."

Lily nodded, filling in blanks.

"Looks like his left arm was vanished and the bones regrown, and… and… what the hell happened to his other arm?" asked Poppy, pulling the sleeve up, revealing an angry scar.

"What is it?" asked Lily as Poppy went through three more diagnostic charms.

"It was cured with phoenix tears, whatever it was." She cast another four charms, but gave up. "We'll have to ask him, because it's stumped me. Some sort of animal, but the fang went all the way through. The phoenix tears shouldn't have even left a scar, but whatever it was…"

Lily looked at the boy lying on the bed and frowned.

"What happened to you, Harry?" she asked, as Rachel walked over and gave Poppy the potions.

2x2x2x2

Harry awoke, once again, in the Hogwarts infirmary. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if it was a dream, or a nightmare. The groggy feeling and bad taste in his mouth said that it wasn't. He rolled his head over, and saw… and saw… and saw Lily Potter half-asleep in a chair next to his bed.

He was still too tired to try and sit up, but it was light out and he was awake.

"Oh, you're up," said Lily, noticing he was awake. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Rather be dead," he grumbled. "Be with m' friends that way, at least."

"Well, you're going to have to be strong and keep going instead. You said you knew the prophecy, right?" asked Lily.

Harry nodded.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to one who has-_"

"One who has?" asked Harry. "It's born to those who have thrice defied him."

Lily frowned. "Marked as his equal?"

"_The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._"

"So you're marked?"

Harry brushed aside his hair, showing Lily the inflamed scar on his forehead. Lily ran her finger across it, feeling the latent magic in it, and shivered.

"How did you get here, Harry?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Voldemort sent me… all through the year, he was sending me images, through the scar, of going through this door in the ministry. I got a glimpse of Arthur Weasley being tortured, managed to save him before he was killed. Then I got the image of him torturing Sirius the night before. I- I had to go, I had to find him and save him."

"Couldn't you have gotten Dumbledore or Severus?"

"Dumbledore was on the run from the Ministry for my stupidity, and I tried Severus. He didn't do anything. So- so-" Harry fell silent, he started shaking again. Lily leaned forward and took his hand, even as she saw him start to bite his freshly healed lip.

"It's alright, Harry, just let it out."

"So- so we went to the Ministry-"

"Who was 'we,' dear?" asked Lily.

"Me, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and Ginny," said Harry. Lily vaguely knew Hermione, she was someone that Harry complained about regularly enough. Luna… Luna Lovegood, from the Quibbler, maybe? And Ginny was Ron's younger sister. Neville, though… Neville… "We all went in, and we found the prophecy, and it was all a bloody trap. Voldemort was waiting. He captured me, and killed the others. He didn't kill me, said he needed to listen to the prophecy first. So then… then he put me on a Thestral and cast some spell on it… and he sent me here."

Lily gently questioned him about his past, about how it was her sister Petunia (and the way he just clammed up, and shoved it all inwards made her more worried than anything else) who "raised" him. She learned that Sirius was framed as a fugitive, that Peter had framed him as the secret-keeper, and that Frank and Alice Longbottom were crucio'd into insanity by Bellatrix LeStrange. This all seemed rather strange. Peter betraying them? Perish the thought.

Then Harry described Professor Quirrell, with Voldemort in the back of his head. She shuddered, recalling Dumbledore describe that monster. She had heard of Gilderoy Lockhart, but hadn't read any of his books. Given the way Harry described him, she wouldn't, either. When the obliviate backfired, and left him next to Frank and Alice, she felt no sympathy for the man who would let a student die. She knew there was a mess with the Chamber of Secrets a few years ago, but that it involved Ginny Weasley? She didn't know that. All she knew was Rachel had found some sort of diary and brought it forward. When it came to the Basilisk and Fawkes, Lily realized where the wound on the arm came from. She hugged him for surviving, as she learned about her second son. It was strange, to her, to hear about the boy in Gryffindor, rather than in Hufflepuff like her Harry had gone.

James walked in leading Harry and Azalea as this Harry started talking about the Dementors on the train, and Remus saving him from them as he listened to… to Lily and Voldemort's last words.

"The Dementors?" asked James.

"Dementors?" asked her Harry, looking green.

"Professor Lupin saved me from them," muttered Harry. "Which is why he taught me the Patronus charm."

"In third year?" asked Lily. "You learned it in third year?" At Harry's nod, she could only ask one question. "Can… can I- can we see it?" She handed him his wand, having already retrieved it from Madam Pomphrey.

Harry stared at her for a moment, then screwed something up inside of himself. "_Expecto Patronum_," he said, and shot forth a brilliant white stag. Lily heard James swear as he looked at it, and she knew exactly why.

"That's beautiful," said Azalea. "Who is he, Dad?"

"That… that's what we were trying to find out," said James, staring at the stag, and knowing this was his son, even if it wasn't. "You really are Harry."

"Yeah," said Harry on the bed.

"He's Harry? What's that supposed to mean?" asked the Harry standing next to James, wholly unsure of what was going on.

"This is going to get confusing," said Azalea, having already figured it out.

The Harry on the bed looked at the Harry next to James. They stared at each other, when one Harry got out of the bed and walked up to his twin. He really was about a head shorter than the other Harry, and even Azalea could see the differences in how they were shaped. The other Harry was shorter, scrawnier, while her Harry had broad, confident shoulders. Even their skin tones were different, one was tanned, with healthy tones, while this one was pale, his skin an unhealthy pallor. And the faces! This Harry was so tired looking, his eyes sunken with circles around them from so rarely sleeping.

"So what are we going to do about names?" she asked.

James and Lily looked at each other, while the two Harrys continued to stare at each other.

"Creepy," said Rachel, walking in behind them.

"It's kinda cool, having a little brother," said the taller Harry.

"I'm the same age as you," said the shorter.

"So? You're still shorter."

Harry rolled his eyes, as he sat back down on the bed.

"I heard you took down Granger," said Azalea.

"Hermione? Yeah," said Harry. "She's never been fast on the draw."

"Wait, you took down Granger?" asked Harry. "She's been near the top of the dueling club for, like, two years now. And you took her down with one spell?"

"Well, yeah. It's Hermione. I mean, she'll try some weird spell, but her shield charms aren't ever very strong, it's the reason she never relies on them with me. I can just power straight through them."

"Power straight through them?" asked taller Harry. "I've never been able to punch through any of her shields."

"Huh," said shorter Harry. "Put up a shield charm, tough as you can."

Taller Harry did, and shorter Harry inspected it.

"That's weird." Harry put up his own, and James' eyes nearly popped out of his head. "I mean, I've known I was powerful ever since the Dementors at the lake-"

"Dementors at the lake?" asked Lily.

"Yeah, I had to chase off about a hundred Dementors before they kissed me and Sirius," said Harry, not looking away from taller Harry's shield charm, releasing his own.

"The Black Lake?" asked taller Harry. "The one over there?"

Shorter Harry nodded, as he stared at the shield. He held up his wand, and a jet of red light plowed through the shield, knocking out the taller Harry. He woke him up, and held out his hand.

"Not bad, but I taught Evan Blackwell to put up a better one than that," said Harry.

"Evan Blackwell?" asked Azalea. "He's in my classes."

"Second year, right? I don't recognize you, either… except…" he trailed off. Dark, auburn hair, with emerald green eyes. "You're a sister, right?"

"Azalea," she said, holding out her hand to shake Harry's. "Hopefully, you'll be a better brother than this git."

Harry smirked a little when he heard that, and shook the hand offered.

"We're keeping him," said Lily. James glanced at her, then back at Harry. "I don't even care what you think, we're keeping him. Maybe we can find a way to send him back, but while he's here, he's family."

"Are you sure, I mean…"

"Petunia," growled Lily.

"Wait… he was raised by Petunia?"

Lily nodded, while shorter Harry stared at the both of them. James stared back at him.

"I mean… it's bad enough dealing with Fred and George," said James. "How are we supposed to keep track of which one we're talking to?"

A/N: Which is, actually, a good point. Spent a few months on this fic already, and I hadn't really had any good ideas. Gred and Forge might come up with the nick-names Terry and Scary (Tall Harry, and Short/Scary Harry), but that didn't seem good enough. I'd recommend using a middle name for one of them, but Harry's middle name is James, which makes things rather difficult. Ideas?


	3. Chapter 3: Tests

**CHAPTER 3 - Tests**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

2x2x2x2

"Hello, Professor," said shorter Harry.

"Hello, Mister Potter," said Albus Dumbledore, a tired smile on his face.

Harry furrowed his brow at that, as he sat down in the chair.

"I'm glad to see you've been released from Madam Pomphrey's tender mercies. I understand you had your own unfortunate adventure in the Ministry, culminating in hearing a prophecy?"

Harry nodded.

"What is it that you wanted to ask me?"

"I was… well, I was wondering if you could help me with a prophecy."

"Lily mentioned you had heard a prophecy. What prophecy was it?"

"It was… it was by Trelawney. The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies," repeated Harry. "I recognized her voice, from when she gave another prophecy."

Dumbledore nodded.

"It's a little different, here, but close enough. The chosen one, whoever they are, was born to one who has thrice defied him. The rest… well, the rest is much the same, Mister Potter. You said your Voldemort found this, listened to it while forcing you to listen as well?"

"Yes."

"What do you make of it, Mister Potter?"

"My parents… my parents must have defied him three times, and I was born at the end of July. He gave me a scar when he was first destroyed, but I don't know what power he's talking about. I also don't like that 'neither can live while the other survives' part."

"Very true," said Albus. "The problem, is we don't know who our chosen one is, Mister Potter. It is possible that it may very well be you. Or perhaps it refers to an entirely different Dark Lord. Given our Voldemort did not mark anyone that we are aware of as his equal, we have found that we have no choice but to face him in direct confrontation. Voldemort is a very powerful wizard, Mister Potter."

"I know," said Harry. "I've faced him, faced the real him at his full power, twice."

"I've heard."

"What did Lily tell you?"

"Not everything. Just that your life was one of hardship and sacrifice."

"That's one way to put it," said Harry. "Leave behind one Dark Lord, only to deal with another one." Harry sat in his chair, staring at the desk.

"How many have you told your story to?"

"Just Lily and James. Remus and Sirius know some of it. I think Azalea and this world's Harry caught some of it, too."

"And the prophecy."

"Lily seemed to know."

"I told your parents soon after you were born," said Dumbledore. "I imagine that remains unchanged. The question remains… do you want to return?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "I want to… except… well… I have no idea how. Riddle seemed to be of the opinion it was one way."

"Riddle? I presume you mean Voldemort."

"Yeah," said Harry. "He did the spell silent, and it involved a thestral."

"A thestral? Ah. You rode a thestral here. I shall have to perform some research, but as near as I am able to recall… such thestral travel was by and large determined to be one way."

Harry nodded.

"It's to my understanding the Potters have decided to take you in?"

Harry nodded again.

"Then I suppose you will be continuing your education here."

"Yes."

"Well then, before we try to figure out your academic records, let us get you sorted. If you'd put on the Sorting Hat?"

"Sort me?" asked Harry, standing up and picking up the hat.

"All students for Hogwarts have to be sorted."

"I was sorted," said Harry, picking up the hat.

"Amuse an old man, Mister Potter."

"Riddle calls me Mister Potter, too," muttered Harry as he put on the hat.

"Well now, isn't this interesting," said the hat.

"Not whispering to me?" asked Harry.

"No. I'm afraid you were right about Albus' ulterior motives."

Harry sighed as he sat down in his chair. This time the brim of the hat didn't cover his eyes, so he saw Dumbledore's twinkling eyes in merriment at being caught.

"He's been trained in occlumency… badly, it appears. By Severus Snape?"

"You have the greasy git scream CLEAR YOUR MIND, ARROGANT BOY then cast legillimens on your brain. See how well you do."

"It took a year for my brim to recover from that boy's hair," muttered the hat. "You're going to have to face your pain some day, Harry. Albus, from what I've seen, he's telling the truth. Even with the hundred Dementors."

"How about a house?" asked Harry.

"What? Oh. Like that's even a question, Harry. You're in Gryffindor. Where else would I put you? Slytherin? I see another hat considered you for it, but now your ambition is to survive, not to make yourself as great as can be. Ravenclaw? You have the skill for it, but not the drive to learn the theory. Hufflepuff? Certainly you have the work ethic, but… well, I doubt you'll ever want the loyalty you commanded from your friends. Not after what happened."

The Hat fell silent, giving Harry a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You are brave, and Godric would always be proud to call you one of his Gryffindors."

Harry watched a sigh of relief pass through Albus.

"I'd still try working on the occlumency, though. I imagine it'd be rather helpful dealing with your own emotions."

"Yeah," said Harry, taking the hat off. Who could he work on occlumency with? Snape? Dumbledore? Unless… he could probably spin the argument the right way to get it to work. Yes, it sounded crazy enough that he might be able to pull it off that way.

"Was there something else, Harry?"

"No, just thinking about occlumency. Wondering how to ask who I was thinking of asking. Yeah, I think that might be best. I think I know someone I might be able to convince me to help me. I'll try them first, before I ask for the greasy git to go poking through my head."

Dumbledore nodded, considering Harry thoughtfully, while Harry stared at the various items scattered around the office.

"Was there anything else, Mister Potter?"

"No… no, I don't think so."

"Excellent. So what is your opinion of living with your parents?"

"I… I don't know. They said they'd take me, but it… it feels weird, meeting people I've never met. I mean, when I see the other students, it feels like I'm meeting ghosts of the people I know."

"I know I cannot understand how you feel, Mister Potter. But remember that they do care for you. You are their son. Right now, the Ministry is still in the chaos, but at some point we will speak of the differences between your old world and ours. For now… for now just get to know your family, Mister Potter. I will be in contact. I'll have Professor McGonagall speak with you about your OWLs."

Harry nodded. As he stood on the escalator, he heard a familiar voice echo in his mind.

_ Mister Potter._

_Yes, you shit-addled cunt-rapist?_ asked Harry, stepping out into the hallway, the gargoyle moving back into place.

_A far better insult. I have found your owl._

_ You found Hedwig? Let me guess, you killed her._

_No, actually. I paid a visit to young Miss Granger's parents. It turns out no one informed them of their daughter's disappearance yet, so I thought I'd take the honor myself._

_You killed them,_ said Harry, too tired to care about the events of the old world.

_No, actually. I informed them that she had fought well, and she'd be staying at my pleasure._

_ At your… she's still alive?_

_ Yes, Mister Potter. Someone that skilled deserves a second chance, even if she's against me. Even if she's a stubborn nail that sticks up. She is, at present, in private quarters._

_ I'm stuck on the whole 'you didn't kill her or her parents' part._

_ Again, no Mister Potter. I informed them I'd be eventually taking over Magical Briton, and given their daughter's ability, they were under my protection. I'll arrange for a visit at some point, and I may have placed a compulsion on the girl's parents to have another child, just to see if the next one would be just as powerful. Once that happened, your owl attacked me. I stunned her. At present, Hedwig is sitting in a cage, determined to murder me with her glare alone._

_ Huh. I don't suppose you can send any of them along to me?_

_ No. I wanted you sent away. That is the intent of the spell. The spell cannot send another person to someone else, let alone an owl._

_ Damn. Then are you at least taking care of her for me?_

_ Of course I am. I imagine it will take some time for her to like me, but I'd rather like to use her as my messenger to Dumbledore. Rub his nose in his failures, as it were._

_ That's… that's rather cruel. I shouldn't be that surprised by it, though. Hey, if you're going to be sending letters to Dumbledore, can you ask him why the hell he put me with the Dursleys? Also, can you ask him if he knew they didn't feed me and treated me like a house elf?_

_ I'm sorry, but repeat that?_

_ They starved me. Poppy did a full medical work up. Malnutrition from ages 2 to 11, and every summer since. My bastard relatives treated me like their personal house-elf. If you ever go to Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, just take a look at the garden and realize that's all my work. Petunia didn't do a damn bit of work on that garden._

_ I will visit that house, Mister Potter,_ said Voldemort, his voice loaded with malice. _I can answer your first question, however. The property was heavily warded. Why Dumbledore couldn't have moved you elsewhere… I will ask him as soon as Hedwig will carry the letter._

_ If you're 'bringing your wrath upon the muggles' then Hedwig might carry the letter. They had her locked in her cage all summer a few times. Also, she's a fiend for Bacon._

_ I'll have to bring her with me, then, Mister Potter. It has been… enlightening to speak with you. Again, once she is willing to carry the letter, I will ask Albus for both of our edification. I have much to think on, and I shall speak with you later._

Harry gave a disgusted snort as he walked back into the infirmary, and Voldemort cut the connection.

"Something funny, Potter?" asked the black-haired girl. Rachel was it? She looked familiar, but he knew she wasn't in any of his classes.

"Yeah, but not something I can share," said Harry, walking back to his bed. He checked around it for any things that he might have left before sitting down on it.

"You still look like a walking turd," said Rachel, finally.

"Thanks," growled Harry.

"What, don't have some witty retort?" asked Rachel.

"No. No I don't. Now, if you excuse me, I have to find Professor McGonagall so I can find out what classes I can get into, and if I have to re-take all of my OWLs because my results are all in a different universe."

"Really? That sucks," said Rachel, with some actual sympathy.

"Yeah, I know. Who was the DADA teacher this year, by the way?"

"Frank Longbottom."

"Huh. Beats Umbridge," he said, recalling the last time he saw Neville's father. "Actually, I should probably make sure all the other teachers are the same. McGonagall for Transfiguration, Flitwick for Charms, Binns for History, Sprout for Herbology, and Snape for Potions, right?"

"Yeah."

"Snape's a greasy git, right?"

"Only to Harry- er, our Harry, and by extension the Hufflepuffs."

"Really?" asked Harry. "Hufflepuff? Wow, that's messed up. My Snape hated everybody except the Slytherins. He's still head of house, right?"

Rachel nodded.

"Still weird. He's not actually nice or anything, is he?" Rachel shook her head. "Thank god, that'd just be freakish. Care is Hagrid, Astronomy is Sinestra, and Divination is Trelawney, right?"

"Don't know about Divination, but yes, Care is Hagrid. It was Grubbly-Plank for the first half of the year, but otherwise it's been Hagrid."

Harry nodded, wondering if Gwarp was in the Forbidden Forest, too. He'd have to ask. He said his goodbyes to Rachel, and left the infirmary for McGonagall's office. He knocked on the door, and McGonagall invited him in.

"My word," she said. "You do look his spitting image."

"Yeah," said Harry, sitting down. "Did the Headmaster tell you the Sorting Hat's result?"

"That you'll be one of my Gryffindors? Yes. He also said you'd need to take all of your OWLs."

Harry rubbed the back of his hand, feeling the lettering there, and sighed.

"I imagine you already have taken them, but unfortunately, we don't have access to your results. We'll administer the exams before your take the train back. Which exams did you take?"

"DADA, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Astronomy, History, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and… and I took the one on Divination, but… no thanks. I won't learn anything useful from that."

McGonagall nodded, making a note of it on her parchment.

"I will have to speak with the other teachers, but you will likely be taking exams over the next few days."

Harry nodded, but still had a question.

"Where will I be staying, and where should I get some clothing from?"

"Aren't you the same size as the other Mister Potter?"

"No, I'm about half a foot shorter. Poppy says I'm about three stone lighter, too."

McGonagall considered Harry for a moment.

"I will speak with James and Lily about taking you to Diagon Alley for clothes shopping. I assume you will also need supplies. You do have your wand, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"Excellent. At present, you will be staying in the guest rooms on the second floor."

"Those are… those are at the base of the west tower, right? Below the Headmaster's office?"

"Yes, that's exactly right, Mister Potter. The password, at the moment, is 'Welcome'. You can change it as you see fit, at least until the Express arrives next week. If you are looking to be sociable, as well, I might recommend attending the final meeting of the dueling club the evening of the eighteenth."

Harry nodded. One more thing out of the way.


	4. Chapter 4: Hermione and Ginny

**CHAPTER 4 – Hermione and Ginny**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

2x2x2x2

Harry snapped awake in the bed. He stared at tapestries from an unknown number of centuries before, with slow moving soldiers and wizards fighting their way across them. Harry assumed they were Roman Legionaires attempting to subdue Scottish wizards, which to Harry made a lot more sense than the Roman army being stopped by naked blue crazy men with large swords.

The nightmare had started, simply enough.

He was back in the Ministry, watching Voldemort murder his friends. He was stuck to the wall of the Atrium, trapped behind a net of chains riveted to the wall. First there was Neville, cut in half with a purple wedge of magic. Ron was next, succumbing to the killing curse. An enraged Hermione and Luna dueled Voldemort, while a terrified Ginny tried to de-spell the chains. Luna screamed under the Cruciatius Curse, and Voldemort then impaled her with a glinting spear of ice. Hermione faced him for what must have been another minute. She had studied so much, prepared so much, and Voldemort smiled as he broke her, congratulated her for her hard fought battle, then put her out of her screaming misery with an orange spell.

Ginny kissed him.

Then she cast the killing curse.

Voldemort laughed as the green flash of light shattered on a piece of loose masonry. He responded with the Imperious Curse, and forced her to turn her wand on herself, telling her she had failed, that she hated herself, and that she should die. She knew the incantation to do it, and she'd already cast it successfully once. What was another time?

"Mister Potter," said Voldemort, turning to him, finally, de-spelling the chains with ease. "You are dreaming, and it is annoying. Please cease."

Harry slumped to the ground, glaring at Voldemort as he slowly morphed into Tom Riddle, bright-eyed and cruel faced.

"I'd never imagine you as saying 'please,'" said Harry.

"I am full of surprises, Mister Potter. According to prophecy, you are my equal, and I will treat you as such." He glanced about the room. "Perhaps you should find someplace less associated with bad memories, Mister Potter."

The atrium disappeared, and instead they were standing in the Weasley's kitchen. Harry could smell the fry-up on the stove, even if Molly was missing. Molly was probably crying her eyes out. Knowing his luck, she was also blaming him for her youngest's deaths.

"Do quit your self-pity, Mister Potter," said the honest and light voice of Tom Riddle. It was nicer, kinder than the lazy hiss of Lord Voldemort, but every bit as regal and dignified.

Harry glared at Riddle as he examined the kitchen.

"I thought Severus had taught you Occlumency."

Harry screwed his eyes shut, and called forth the memory. Harry was sitting in one of the chairs in front of Snape's desk. A memory of Harry walked through the door, Severus standing behind the desk, and Tom Riddle standing behind the seated Harry.

"Clear your mind!" shouted Severus, pointing his wand at Harry, and incanting the spell. The memory broke down, disjointed memories flooding the mind-scape before falling apart back into the Weasley kitchen.

"Severus never struck me as a good teacher," said Riddle, taking a seat at the Weasley table. "Which, really, is why I don't trust him in the slightest." Tom looked at Harry appraisingly. "You know, one thing Albus truly got wrong about me, was that I did want to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Certainly, there was networking potential there, but most of all, I wanted to teach."

"We're more alike than I'd like to think," growled Harry. "I taught DADA this year."

"Ah, the Dumbledore's Army incident I heard about from Lucius. Umbridge is a useless little toad, and I'm going to have her killed at some point." Riddle stared about the kitchen a moment longer, then back at Harry. He smiled. "You know what? I think I will. I'll release the prophecy, announce you've been banished from this reality. Kill Dumbledore, let the Order of the Flaming Turkey collapse, and then I'll retire to teach. Let Lucius run everything just like he wants to. Let Snape be Headmaster, and just teach students the grandness of magic itself."

"And kill all the muggleborn in the process," grumbled Harry.

"Kill them? No. Maybe I'll just ship them off to France, let them attend Beauxbatons. The Frogs have always been a bunch of useless ninnies, anyways," said Riddle, thoughtfully. "Granted, that might interfere with the my plans for the Grangers. I'll have to put some thought into it."

"Not going to take over the world?"

"Hm? No, never. Maybe when I was younger. Now? I plan on taking my revenge on Dumbledore, study whatever magic I please, and bask in my own eternal glory," said Riddle. He took a deep breath of the kitchen's air. "That is a lovely smell. This is the Weasley residence, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"They are a rather fine folk. I'll have to offer amnesty once I kill Dumbledore. Not a lick of monetary sense between them, but they're certainly a magically powerful family. Either way, I have business to attend to in the morning. We'll work on your occlumency after your next nightmare."

With that, Voldemort saluted, and it was over.

As he finished staring at the tapestries, realizing it was just barely after dawn, he stripped off his clothing and climbed into the shower, trying to clean off the strangeness of the nightmare.

Once out, he was inspecting his clothes when he realized there were splotches and flecks of blood stained into them. He held is wand and tried to scourgify them out, but he couldn't. He couldn't wave his wand to remove the last remnants of his friends. He could only stare at them, knowing just whose blood it was.

There was a knock at the door. He glanced up, and realized it was nearly half-past ten. Had he been staring that long?

"Harry?" said Lily's voice.

"You decent?" asked James.

"Don't embarrass him!" Harry could hear Lily whisper.

"In a minute," said Harry, as he pulled the shirt on over his head, followed by the pants and the ratty pair of trainers.

"Are you alright?" asked Lily.

"I'm fine," said Harry, walking past them. Lily and James looked at each other.

"You weren't at breakfast," said James.

"Wasn't hungry," replied Harry, walking up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" asked James.

"Headmaster's office for the floo, right?" asked Harry.

"Nope. Front gate. We're dis-apparating to the alley."

Harry sighed.

"Don't like dis-apparating?" asked James.

"Never done it before, but most magical travel doesn't agree with me. I figured we'd be going with the devil I knew, over the one I didn't."

"Don't worry to much about it. I'm pretty sure the Headmaster's still dealing with the fallout from the ministry, so we're walking out the front door."

They walked to the front gates, as James asked him questions. He avoided questions about friends, having already been warned by Lily, and instead asked about classes and grades.

"Severus isn't that bad," said Lily, when Harry referred to him as a greasy-haired git for the fourth time.

"No, he always hated me. He used teaching my occlumency as an excuse to abuse my brain, and the only time he ever watched out for me was to save my life from Professor Quirrell first year."

"Quirrell? Wasn't he the one out to get the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Yeah. He tried to kill me with a broom jinx when I was playing quidditch. Snape managed to hold him off long enough for my friends to knock him over…" he trailed off for a moment. "Granted, we thought it was Snape at the time…" he said, trailing off again, acting as though it wasn't the mere thought of his friends that stopped his thoughts.

"It hurts," said James. "It won't ever go away, but it'll dull with time. I'm actually surprised you're holding up this well."

"Hermione said I always internalized everything until I boiled over and exploded," said Harry. "I learned she was always right."

"Girlfriend?" asked Lily.

"No," said Harry. "She was... she was just a good friend."

"Wait," said James, stumbling upon something both far more important, and less likely to open old wounds. "You were playing quidditch when Quirrell was a teacher? Wasn't he in your first year?"

"Yeah. McGonagall made an exception for me after she saw me fly."

"You're getting a broom for your birthday," said James, realizing that even with his ability on a broom, McGonagall didn't make an exception for him. "What did you get?"

"McGonagall got me a Nimbus 2000, but I lost that to the Whomping Willow," said Harry, pointing out the tree on the grounds. "So Sirius bought me a Firebolt to replace it. Didn't get much of a chance to use it, though."

"Alright, we're buying you one earlier than that. You need practice. Gryffindor hasn't seen the cup in years, and if McGonagall was willing to buy you a broom, I'm buying you a broom."

Lily rolled her eyes as they walked through the front gate. She took Harry's hand, and he felt a horrible crushing sensation that made him want to sick up all over everything. He managed to keep it down, but he rather suspected it was only because there wasn't anything to keep down in the first place.

They appeared in Diagon Alley, and what followed was a shopping trip where they purchased everything for Harry, a trunk, clothes, school supplies, books, quidditch gear, a wand holster given how much trouble he managed to get himself into, but no new broom.

"Not until I see him fly," was Lily's stance. "If he's that good, he has a birthday coming up."

James shook his head, while Lily rolled her eyes.

"Your Harry doesn't play quidditch?" asked Harry.

"He does. He's a chaser for Hufflepuff, though, and uses Comet 260. A seeker, though… how old are your glasses?"

"Probably close to five, six years old, now?" thought Harry out loud.

Lily glanced at them, and noticed they were held together with more magic than metal.

"You're getting new ones," said Lily. "Come on."

Harry was dragged through a magical optometrist, and received a new pair of unbreakable glasses spelled to stay on his head unless he took them off. They took him to lunch, and grilled him more about his classes, still avoiding the topics that James and Lily likely thought of as sensitive.

Eventually, they returned him to Hogwarts, where James watched Harry levitate the trunk into the guest room.

"So what are you going to do now?" asked James.

"Now?" asked Harry. "I dunno."

"You should get out and see people," said James. "Maybe… maybe try and connect with people. Maybe some of the ones you knew, maybe some of the ones you don't know."

Harry nodded, thinking about it.

"Do you have the Marauder's Map?" asked Harry.

"The original? You found it?"

"Weasley twins did. They gave it to me after saving Ginny's life."

"I'll have to make a subtle inquiry, then. We have copies of it, though, that we use to keep track of the students."

Harry nodded as James pulled out his copy of the map. It was nowhere near as wrinkled as the original, but he examined it anyways, checking the infirmary, then the library for the people he was looking for.

"Not surprising in the least," said Harry, handing it back to James.

"Who are you looking for?"

"The girl from the infirmary, Rachel, and an old friend of mine, Hermione. I figure I can start there."

"Great. When you take the Express back, just be sure to find us on the platform, and we'll take you home."

"Er- Home?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, to the Potter Home. In Godric's Hollow. Didn't you ever go?"

Harry shook his head.

James stared for a minute.

"The Potter family's been living there for the better part of four hundred years, and you never went?"

"No. Never even knew about it. By the time I really wanted to learn about my family, it was already too dangerous for me to be out in public… I… I never even went to see your graves," said Harry, choking up again.

"Well, hopefully, you won't have to visit any graves for a good long time, alright?"

Harry nodded.

2x2x2x2

Harry walked into the library, and walked back to Hermione's usual table, finding her shoulder deep in books. He pulled out a chair to sit down. She glared at him over the top of her book.

"What do you want, Potter?" she grumbled.

Harry sat there and blinked for a moment, surprised.

"Oh, wait… you," she said, her voice dripping with disgust. "You stunned me in the corridors, and you look like Potter," she said, replying to his surprise. "All the more reason to hate you."

Harry winced.

"I'm sorry about that, it's been a rough couple of days. Is Harry really that much of a jackass?" asked Harry.

"Yes. He struts around here as bad as Malfoy does, when they're not trying to kill each other."

"He struts? Really?" asked Harry, horrified. "You mean if I grew up with my parents, I'd be an arrogant berk like Malfoy?"

"Ye- what?" asked Hermione, confused.

"If I was raised by my parents, I'd be an arrogant berk like Malfoy?" repeated Harry.

"Er… yes?"

Harry put his head on the table, and sighed.

"And now I have to live with him," mumbled Harry into the table.

"Well… I mean, he's not that bad," said Hermione, trying to make him feel a little better. "It's just… well… he's arrogant, and thinks he's Merlin's gift to women, and that everybody should look up to him."

Harry sighed.

"I'm not helping, am I?" asked Hermione.

"No."

"Well- er- who are you, by the way?"

"Harry Potter," said Harry, sitting up and sighing.

Hermione stared at him, looking at the emerald eyes that stared back at her, the messy black hair, and nodded, deciding Rachel wasn't actually crazy when she said there was another of them.

"You really are," said Hermione. "Rachel was talking about you, and I thought she was kidding. You do look like death warmed over, though. And you're also much better dressed."

"I always look like death warmed over," said Harry. "You're friends with Rachel?"

"Yes, she saved me from a troll first year."

She wasn't expecting Harry to stare at her for a minute, then smile and laugh like a maniac

"Are you alright?" she asked as he began to calm down.

"Sorry, I don't know why it's funny. Did Ron say something stupid?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I dragged Ron Weasley with me to save you from a Troll first year. At least tell me Rachel didn't shove her wand up it's nose?"

"No. She dropped it's club on it's head. How did you shove your wand up the troll's nose?"

"By jumping on it's back, of course," said Harry, trying and failing to deadpan it.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm assuming Ron's a giant prat?"

"For the most part," said Hermione. "He seems to hate everybody."

"He's jealous of his brothers," said Harry. "A curse-breaker for Gringotts, a dragon-handler, the Prefect and Headboy that went into the Ministry, then there's Fred and George."

"Nothing about Ginny?" asked Hermione.

"Ginny?" asked Harry, he turned and looked away for a moment, thinking of that frantic kiss Ginny had placed on his lips, just before… before...

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione.

"Sorry," said Harry after a moment. "Bad memories."

"Okay. So tell me, Harry, just why are you talking with me, rather than your dimensional twin?"

"Because… because I have no idea who Harry Potter is, here. As far as I know, he's the arrogant bloke with a nice sister, who didn't have his parents murdered by the Dark Lord. I did, however, know this nice girl who was a lot smarter than me named Hermione Granger that I was friends with, and I was hoping we could become friends, too."

"Well," said Hermione, staring at Harry for a moment, looking, even feeling the waves of anxiety coming off of him. "I suppose as long as you understand that I'm smarter than you."

"Great!" said a smiling Harry. He then spent the next hour or two appeasing Hermione, by asking her questions about questions he knew he failed on the OWLs, and then letting her expound on the answers as long as she wanted. He even took notes.

"So there's a proof for Gamf's law, but I'd have to take about six years of Arithmancy in order to get it."

"They taught it this year," said Hermione.

"Right, so I'd have to take six year's of Arithmancy in order to get it."

"Self-deprecation doesn't become you, Harry."

Harry shrugged, smiling, when there was a voice behind him.

"Hello Hermione, whose… oh, hi Harry."

"Hello Ginny," said Harry, his entire body rigid.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"I- I'm fine."

Hermione glanced at Ginny.

"Bad… bad memories?" asked Hermione.

Harry nodded.

"What's going on?" asked Ginny.

"It's not the one you're lusting after, it's the twin Rachel was talking about."

"Oh," said Ginny, crestfallen enough that Harry figured it out.

A searing pain struck his forehead, and his hand clasped across it.

_What the hell is your problem?_ asked Harry, as he felt the link with Voldemort open far further than it'd yet been.

_I have found your cupboard,_ spoke Voldemort in an icy tone. Harry could feel the waves of rage flowing off of him.

"Harry, are you alright? Your forehead's bleeding," said Hermione.

_The wards fell two and a half hours ago. Hedwig has agreed to carry our questions. I will contact you again once I have Dumbledore's response._

"Hasn't happened in a while," muttered Harry. He cast a blood-vanishing charm, followed by a wound-cleaning charm. He touched the scar, then inspected his fingers, not finding any blood.

"Are you alright?" asked Ginny again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting that," said Harry, staring straight ahead.

"What happened?"

"Curse scar," said Harry. "Either of you have a mirror?"

"Yes," said Ginny, handing him an aged pink compact. Harry parted his hair and glanced at the slightly inflamed lightening bolt on his forehead.

"Thanks," he said, handing it back to Ginny. His eyes were still solidly on the books in front of him.

"You're welcome," said Ginny, stiffly, then she walked away.

"I don't think she's very happy with you," said Hermione.

"Not ready to deal with her," said Harry. "I should be going."

Hermione frowned as Harry stood up. He clearly wasn't feeling well, that much was evident to her.

"Will I see you at dinner?" she asked.

"I… maybe. I don't know," said Harry as he left the library. He returned to his rooms, and sat on his bed, staring once more at the tapestries. He jumped when there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" asked Harry.

"Professor McGonagall."

Harry went and opened the door.

"Professor."

"Mister Potter, I was hoping to talk with you about your OWL schedule, and you were not at the evening meal."

Harry nodded, returning to the bed. He glanced out the window, and realized he'd done it again. He sighed.

"Sorry, I wasn't hungry."

Minerva paused, considering him carefully for a moment.

"It is not healthy to skip meals, Mister Potter. The teachers have agreed to grade your OWLs. You will be taking them in my office. Tomorrow will be Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I will be proctoring my own exam, while Professor Longbottom will be proctoring his. The day after tomorrow will be Charms and History of Magic, after that Potions. Finally, you will be spending the morning with Hagrid for the Care of Magical Creatures exam and the afternoon in the greenhouses. Unfortunately, due to time constraints, you'll be spending that evening in the Astronomy tower."

Harry nodded.

"I understand you were with your parents this morning, and Miss Granger this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"It is good to reconnect with your friends, Mister Potter. While we do not know the situation you left behind, to have friends is to share your burdens. Again, I would recommend the dueling club. They will be hosting a final meet the evening after next in the Great Hall."

Harry nodded. McGonagall let a sad look penetrate her stern gaze, but she left.

"What if my friends are my burdens?" asked Harry of the tapestry.

**EDIT 4/11/12: **Changed occulemancy into occlumency. Also fixed an issue with dis-apparition. Harry's never done it before, so he can't disagree with it... until he's done it. Then he can state, without a doubt, that he hates it.


	5. Chapter 5: Ron

**CHAPTER 5 – Ron**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

"Ah, yes, the graveyard," said Voldemort, watching Cedric keel over, dead. "Find someplace else, Mister Potter."

They were on lawns surrounding Hogwarts, near the Black Lake. Harry was sitting, staring out over it.

"Much better, Mister Potter," said Tom Riddle. "We begin your training with the first, obvious step. _How_ to clear your mind."

0x0x0x0

Sirius was wondering when the nightmare was going to start. He knew he was dreaming. After all, why else would he be in Grimmauld Place, staring at the old family tapestry?

"Hey, mate," came a familiar voice. It was lower, dryer, more raspy than he was used to, but it was... his. Sirius turned to see himself. Of a sort.

He was thin – no – emaciated. His hair was matted and limp, his cheeks hollow, the bones of his face prominent from lack of flesh. His skin was pallid and white. And his eyes... his proud black eyes were sunken, lifeless and dull.

"He doesn't trust," said this other Sirius, as though that explained everything.

"Who?"

"Harry. My Harry."

"Who doesn't he trust?"

"Anyone. Everyone," said this other Sirius. He examined the tapestry a long moment, staring at the blackened name of every child that hoped to redeem the name Black, before turning back to his opposite. "Not a single soul. It was in here, that I realized I was coming close, I like to think. He confided in me, that little bit. Asked for advice, here and there. Maybe he will with you."

"But... but his parents..."

"He has nightmares about his parents," said this other Sirius. "Dementors. You heard about the Dementors, right?"

Something clicked in Sirius's mind.

"Azkhaban?"

The other Sirius, the pained and tortured Sirius, nodded.

"Ten long years," he said. "I was the only one with a good enough excuse."

"Excuse?"

"How many friends did James and Lily have? How many people were at their wedding, even with Voldemort looming in everyone's minds? Where were all of them? Why didn't any of them try to find him? No one even told him stories of James and Lily. Not Hagrid, not Minerva, not any of them. No one. Just me."

"Not Remus? Not Peter?" asked Sirius, holding out hope.

The other Sirius laughed. It was a horrible, dry sound.

"No one." He looked back at the tapestry. "That Marx girl. She isn't bad. Talk with her. Get her invited over."

"There's something you aren't telling me."

"Course there is," said the other Sirius. He gave a lecherous grin. It felt like he was being leered at by the Grim Reaper. "That's part of the fun. Talk to him in this room. It's where I talked with him about family."

Sirius nodded, slowly.

"He's our Godson, you got that? You take care of him, or I'll haunt you til Kingdom Come."

2x2x2x2

Harry walked into the Great Hall at six on the dot, taking some toast and a few pieces of fruit. Hermione and Rachel walked in, and immediately walked over to him.

"You're up early," said Rachel. "I guess that means you really are Bizzaro Harry."

Harry ignored her, instead focusing on buttering his toast.

"You sure you've spread enough butter on that toast?" asked Hermione, worried.

"Probably," said Harry, putting it on his plate. He sighed, then took another slice and spread jam on it before eating it.

"So you never met me?" asked Rachel.

"No," replied Harry.

"Any reason you can think of why?"

"Not really," said Harry, glancing at Rachel. He recognized something about her, but couldn't place it. "I mean, you look familiar, so maybe you're related to someone here?"

"Could be. My parents adopted me, so I have no idea."

"Adopted you? What happened?" asked Harry.

"No idea," said Rachel. "We never really talked about it, because I've never cared. They're the ones that raised me, and they're the ones that have loved me like their own."

Harry nodded, finishing his toast. He moved on to eggs and bacon. He stared at them for a moment, before Rachel chimed in.

"It's not going to eat itself, you know."

"I know. I've already gotten a stern glare from McGonagall. I don't need you as well."

"Good," said Rachel. "So are you retaking OWLs?"

"Transfiguration and DADA today, all in McGonagall's office. I get to meet Professor Longbottom, too. That'll be weird."

"Why?" asked Rachel.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the St. Mungo's long-term spell damage ward, him and his wife were crucio'd to insanity. I was friends with their son, Neville."

"Neville?" asked Hermione. "The name doesn't ring a bell at all. I know there's a Theresa Longbottom in Azalea's year, and I think Professor Longbottom's married. I think Theresa might even have a younger brother, too."

"I'll have to ask what happened to him," said Harry. "Or not, I don't know. Maybe I'll ask James and Lily."

"You don't call them Mum and Dad?" asked Hermione.

"I never knew them. They were killed by the Dark Lord when I wasn't even one and a half."

"So were you in an orphanage, or what?" asked Rachel.

"No, I was given to my aunt and uncle."

"That's not so bad," said Rachel. "Poppy's shared a few horror stories about orphanage kids."

"You don't know my aunt and uncle," growled Harry.

"Wait…" said Rachel, thinking for a moment. "You're a lot shorter than your twin. It's because of them, isn't it."

Harry nodded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That… that must have been awful."

Harry shrugged, knowing he'd never see them again.

Breakfast continued, Rachel and Hermione quickly realizing that Harry had a rather abnormally large number of sore points in his past, and stopped actively trying to find them.

"What're you doing here, Potter," said Ron Weasley.

"Sitting with my friends," replied Harry, turning and staring at him.

"Go sit in Hufflepuff where you belong," replied Ron. "And stay away from my sister."

Harry continued to stare at him, then shook his head and looked back at Hermione and Rachel.

"I'm talking to you!" said Ron.

"You were," said Harry, thinking of a glassy-eyed Ron being eaten by a thestral. "I'd avoid you as well, but we're going to be room mates next year."

"What?"

"I'm an entirely different Harry Potter," said Harry, pointing at the other Harry, who was walking in with Ernie MacMillon and Hannah Abbot. "Have a nice day, Ron. By the way, you're catching flies."

Ron's mouth clicked shut, while the other Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table.

"Piss off Ron. Hey, Harry, going to sit with me?"

"Nah, I want to catch up with some friends."

"Oh," said taller Harry, glancing at Rachel and Hermione, who were both glaring daggers in his direction. "Well, alright then. Maybe you can sit with me and Ernie at lunch, alright?"

"Okay," said shorter Harry.

"You were friends with Granger?" asked Ron, incredulously, as taller Harry went to sit with the Hufflepuffs.

"I am friends with Hermione," said shorter Harry. "If you want to be an ass, Ron, go be it somewhere else."

"Wait, you're telling me that Granger has friends?" asked Ron.

Harry turned around and snapped off a silencing charm before Ron could even try to fumble for this wand.

"Christ Ron, I told you, if you can't stop being a jackass, be one somewhere else!"

Harry turned back to Hermione and Rachel. Hermione was smiling pleasantly, while Rachel nodded respectfully. The Weasley twins walked up behind Ron as he continued to attempt to shout at Harry and dragged him further down the table.

"Nice one, Harry!" called Harry from Hufflepuff. "I've been meaning to shut him up for a while."

"Wait, there's two of them?" came another voice.

"Yes there's two of us, Malfoy!" said Hufflepuff Harry. "I'm glad you could enter the conversation. Now leave it."

"Or what? You'll fail at taking me down in the club again?" asked Malfoy, walking over to Gryffindor Harry, as Hufflepuff Harry walked over as well. Both were backed by fellow students, Ernie MacMillon and Susan Bones were with Harry, while Malfoy was backed with his usual Crabbe and Goyle.

"Club?" asked Harry.

"Dueling Club," supplied Hermione. "It was started in second year by Sirius Black."

"I think he just wanted a go at Snape," said Rachel.

"It wouldn't surprise me," said Harry as he watched his doppleganger and Malfoy start to argue. Ron was back up, the twins having removed the Silencing Charm, and was about to join the confrontation when a flash and a bang made everyone jump.

"I think that is enough," said Albus Dumbledore. "Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, Mister Weasley, if you and your friends would take your seats. Mister Potter, thank you for not trying to interfere. Most everyone is here, now, I should like to announce what Mister Malfoy has so pleasantly brought to our attention. I had hoped for the evening meal, but now should work just as well. We have been joined by a second Harry Potter, one who is from an entirely difference universe that is both similar and different to ours. Do try not to badger him too much, as because of this incident, he must retake all of his OWLs so we have his grades."

There were a series of groans of pity amongst the fifth years and up.

"Thank you for your time and attention. Now, enough pity for Mister Potter, let us resume our breakfast."

2x2x2x2

"Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know Neville Longbottom?"

McGonagall looked up from the tests she was grading, and carefully inspected Harry for a moment.

"Neville Longbottom was Frank and Alice's first son. He was killed a day after You-Know-Who destroyed himself, by several of the LeStranges. They also severely injured Frank and Alice, but not enough that they didn't continue having a family."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry, looking back down at his finished test. He handed the roll of parchment to the Professor.

"Might I ask why?" asked McGonagall.

"I… I was friends with Neville. I- I just was wondering what happened to him."

"I imagine Professor Longbottom might be interested in knowing about his son," said McGonagall. "Perhaps. Do consider it, Mister Potter. Now, we must be off to lunch."

"Yes Professor."

The pair of them walked down to the Great Hall, and Harry waved at Rachel and Hermione, but sat with his dimensional twin.

"Hello, Harry," said the Hufflepuff.

"Hello, Harry," said the Gryffindor, in a fit of amusement as he sat down. "Great, now I feel like a Weasley Twin."

"Wow, he really does look like you," said Hannah. "Just shorter. It's freakish."

Gryffindor Harry started chuckling.

"What?" asked Hannah.

"Sorry, just something I'll probably never have to hear again."

"What?" asked Hannah.

"Freak," said Harry with a smile. "I won't be living with my Aunt and Uncle anymore."

"They called you a freak?" asked Hufflepuff Harry, horrified.

"Yeah. But now I don't have to deal with them," said Gryffindor Harry with a smile.

Hufflepuff Harry turned back to his food in silence, staring at it for a moment, unsure of what to do. His… twin? Brother? Dimensional Doppleganger? What was he to him? This other Harry glanced at Hannah, and asked her a question about whether or not she had fixed a follow-through problem on her stunner. Hannah blinked with surprised, then answered that Professor Longbottom had mentioned it to her a few times. Harry told her to try something very different from what Longbottom had mentioned, something about intent to get away, and Hannah nodded, something falling into place.

He knew this other Harry wasn't perfect. He wasn't even normal, given that he was rather shy until he started talking about different student's spellwork. But… but he was a nice kid, by the way he was talking with Hannah. That he was friends with Rachel and Granger (Granger especially, given the way Dean had spoken of her, and the way he acted to her) said quite a bit.

They weren't clones. They were different- Very different, given what he'd said about Petunia. He was shorter, too, and he looked… he looked tired, really. Harry was willing to assume that was just OWLs… but then he recalled what Harry had said about You-Know-Who.

"Now, don't all of you gang up on him at once," said Hufflepuff Harry. "Everybody can gang up on him when he goes to the Dueling Club tomorrow night."

"Dueling Club?"

"I figure you'll want to do something to unwind after all those tests."

"Don't even talk about them," said Harry. "DADA won't be so bad, but I'm not to keen on anything else."

"At least you had a chance to practice," said Azalea, walking up behind them.

"Hi Azzie," said Hufflepuff Harry, knowing Azalea hated that name. The other Harry turned around and looked at her for a moment.

"Azalea, right?" he asked.

"Much better," she said, smiling at his twin. She started asking him about teachers, and built a far more colorful school history than either of them had. Quirrell they all knew, although they didn't have Remus, Moody, or Lockhart. What Harry had to say about Lockhart was enlightening, to say the least. Even more so about Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. He didn't say much about who they were, but talked more about how they taught.

"So why did you know how good Evan Blackwell's shield charm was?"

"I pretty much taught DADA this year," said Harry. "Hermione made me, because she was angry about how we weren't learning anything from Umbridge, and it was OWLs."

"Umbridge was that bad?" asked Azalea.

"Yeah, she had you sit down each class, say wands away, and then say which chapter of the book to read."

"And she expected you to learn from that?"

"Not really," said Harry. "Which is why Hermione did what she did."

Hufflepuff Harry felt there was more there, waiting in the wings to be learned, but he didn't know what it could be. Why had he arrived here? Why was he sent here? He knew his parents knew, but they weren't saying anything. Hufflepuff Harry was good at dealing with people. The Sorting Hat had banked on that, and told him he could either go Slytherin to make allies, or Hufflepuff to make friends.

He went Hufflepuff. He'd found it easy, made a few more friends, and went on to become one of the best loved students in the school (except for a few outliers, but there would always be people like that). And then, there was his… his… his bother, he supposed.

Harry had already realized his brother didn't deal with people well. At least, not personally. He dealt with them on a skill level, talking about spell-casting and proficiency.

"You're worried," said Azalea, as they both watched Harry walk off with Professor McGonagall.

"He didn't talk about himself," said Harry.

"He did, he talked about his teachers."

"No, that's not talking about himself. That's talking about who taught him. Who were his friends?"

"Granger and Rachel," said Azalea.

"Granger, yes. Not Rachel though. He said he's never met her before. Who else?"

Azalea stood there and thought for a moment.

"You really were supposed to be in Slytherin, weren't you?" asked Azalea.

"It worries me. I mean, normally, I can get someone talking about who they are within five minutes. Hell, I learned about Luna's mother within fifteen minutes, and as near as I know, nobody except Ginny knew that. With him? I know he was friends with Granger, that he was raised by Aunt Petunia because Mum and Dad were killed by the Dark Lord, and that she called him a freak. He taught defense one year. What else do we know?"

Azalea stood and thought for a moment.

"I can ask Hermione or Rachel," she said. "Maybe they know something else. You don't like this, do you?"

"You're right, I am worried. It's not that I don't like him… it's just… it's hard to put into words. He's closed off. He doesn't trust people."

"He doesn't trust people, because he's never had anyone to trust," said Azalea. "I'm betting he didn't have any friends at all when growing up."

Harry looked at this sister, and frowned. Not have any friends? He couldn't see himself like that. He just couldn't.

**Author's Notes:** Also, with two Harry Potters, I'm trying to differentiate the two in the text as much as possible. If there's any confusing spots, drop a review and tell me, _please_. Hell, if there's anything at all you'd like to say, or any ideas you don't think I cover, drop me a review or a private message.


	6. Chapter 6: Neville and Luna

**CHAPTER 6- Neville and Luna**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

"Hello, Mister Potter," said Professor Longbottom. He looked both nothing and everything like the broken man Harry recalled from St. Mungo's. He looked far more full of life and pride and dignity, an easy smile on his face and light shining in his eyes.

"Professor Longbottom," said Harry. He wondered, honestly, what Neville would think of this man. Knowing Neville, he'd want to know if he'd measured up to his father's expectations.

They went through similar testing to what he'd already done, going through defensive spells and the theory behind them. Longbottom learned, for the most part, that Harry's basic theory was "It's all intent, sir."

"Not to heavy on the theory?" asked Professor Longbottom as they were finishing up. "You'll still do fine, though. Your practical work is amazing for a fifth year."

"No. Only had one teacher that had a chance to teach much theory."

"Me and Sirius have been doing an excellent job so far. How come I never taught?"

"You were curcio'd to insanity by the LeStranges."

"Rudolphus and Rabastan?" asked Longbottom.

"And Bellatrix," said Harry.

"Bellatrix?" asked Longbottom, thinking for a moment. "She died with the Dark Lord. Rudolphus and Rabastan tried to kill me and Alice after the fall of the Dark Lord. Nearly succeeded, along with Crouch Jr. I lost my son to those monsters. It nearly destroyed Alice."

Harry was silent at this, trying to decide just what he would say about Neville. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't think of anything to say. How could he? How could he say he knew this man's son, but that even if he returned, they'd never met? How could he say that instead of growing up, he'd been cut down by the Dark Lord himself?

He could feel McGonagall's eyes on him, as Longbottom, shook his head, clearing it of his memories.

"He was good with plants," said Harry, finally.

"Hm?"

"Neville," said Harry. "He was good with plants. He- he didn't really do well until this year, really. He was… he was always worried about how badly he did, but after Bellatrix escaped…" Harry swallowed. "Something hardened in him. I visited him over Christmas break, and met… and met you and Alice, I guess."

Frank stared at him.

"He- He always wanted to make you proud of him," said Harry. He looked down at his assignment, and everything was blurry, and the ink on his paper was running and he didn't know why-

Harry started talking, speaking of the quiet boy that lost his frog on the train, that hated potions, but could make damn near anything grow. He never noticed McGongall leave her seat, and walk to the fire, whispering in it for a moment, or the plain woman that walked through, standing tall on a cane, frowning at McGonagall dragging her into what was clearly a private conversation between-

She stopped when Frank motioned for her to be quiet and listen as a sobbing Harry Potter talked about… talked about… talked about his friend Neville.

For once, she listened to Frank, and sat down as a sobbing young man told her story after story about the son she lost. She listened, as this young man tried, he tried so hard, to impress upon Frank (she realized he didn't even know she was there) just how much Neville worked, hoped, and prayed that his parents would be proud of him. She watched this young man fall apart, as he recounted story after story of him, going through five years of the life of the son she never knew, the son she lost to the wretched monsters before her and Frank managed to kill them.

She had lost any sense of time, when Harry was talking about the Department of Mysteries of all things, of their mad plan to break in, using Thestrals of all creatures, and their mad dash to escape as Voldemort himself chased after them. She smiled when he said Neville… when all five of his friends stopped to defend him after he was caught in a conjured net, and her heart broke when he spoke of a curse that tore him in half as he tried to save his friend.

The boy was silent for a time, tears falling onto the desk, Frank having long since taken away the parchment and set it on McGonagall's desk. McGonagall herself was seated, tears in her own eyes, long realizing, quite clearly, what had happened to their son. To find him, and then lose him again… Alice was utterly beyond words.

"I… I should go," said Harry, finally, standing, practically attempting to flee the silence around him.

"Don't," said Alice, her first words in over three hours.

Harry jumped at the word, and then turned to see Alice, pushing herself up with her cane.

"I… I shouldn't…" he trailed off as the woman came up to him, and then crushed him into a hug.

Alice felt him stiffen as she wrapped her hands around him. It didn't surprise her that he was anxious, it didn't worry her in the slightest, but she expected him to loosen up the slightest amount when she whispered a gentle "Thank you," into his ear for telling her of her son. Telling her how much he looked up to his parents, and how much he hoped he'd made them proud. "He did make us proud." The boy remained stiff as Alice released him, holding him by his shoulders and smiling at him. The boy's face was stoney and hard, even as tears streamed down it. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped them away.

"We need to get some food in you," she said, taking the head of her cane. "Minnie, I'm taking him down to the kitchens."

"Be my guest, Alice."

Alice lead Harry out of McGonagall's office, and they made their way into the basement of the castle, past a round portrait that Harry didn't recognize, and to the familiar bowl of fruit. Once inside, the house elves quickly provided the pair with a table, chairs, and dinner.

"It must be hard, losing all of your friends like that," said Alice.

"I- I don't know," said Harry. "It- it feels weird. Like, I think about all of them dying right in front of me, and I think about Riddle, and it's all just a blank."

"A blank?" asked Alice.

"Just this emptiness, like there's a chunk of me missing, and I don't know where it went. I know I should be sad, I know I should be angry, but there's just nothing there."

"It hasn't hit you, yet. It'll sneak up on you, and surprise you."

"What?"

"Grief. Rage. It'll all just come out of the blue, and hit you, and you won't even realize it. When Neville died… Frank got his grief out of the way once Neville was cremated and in the ground. After that, he hardened, and once he was up and walking, that was it. Me… I walked around in this half daze for what must have been two weeks, until I came home from St. Mungo's, and walked into the nursery. And that's when I just fell to pieces. It just hit me like an oncoming train. One minute, I'm staring at an empty crib for my son, the next I'm curled up next to it bawling my eyes out."

"But… but… I don't even hate him for it! It's like- It's like-"

"You're dead inside," said Alice. "Right now, you're mind is giving you a little time before it all hits you at once. Don't worry. It'll happen."

Harry nodded, and started picking away at his food.

0x0x0x0

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Mister Potter?" said Snape, considering the three liquids in the glass in front of him.

"I know my father treated you rather badly, when you were both in Hogwarts..." began Harry. "I was hoping we could start on a better foot."

Severus considered this Harry Potter for a moment. He knew the Potter brat, he knew how arrogant and spoiled the little shit was. This Potter, though... he cleaned up well, but Severus could still see the haunted pain, he could see how thin the boy was, how he moved like he was on eggshells, how he acted and reacted when something was behind him.

"I have time enough for only one arrogant and spoiled brat, Mister Potter. You are your own young man. Whether I will be appending Intelligent or Dunderheaded to that title remains to be seen."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

0x0x0x0

The next two OWL exams were just as grueling as the first two. He sat with Hermione and Rachel at breakfast again, and with Harry again at lunch. At dinner, he sat with Azalea for a little bit, but then walked over and spoke with a dirty-blonde girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hello, Harry," said the girl.

"Hello, Luna."

"Your brother was very nice to me. Did he tell you to be nice to me?"

"No, I wanted to be nice to you, because I was nice to you. Or another version of you."

"Another version, I suppose," said Luna. "Tell me, what was I like?"

"You were nice, kind. You drove Hermione spare, with the stuff in the Quibbler. You showed me the Thestrals. And you helped me try to rescue my godfather, even if I didn't realize he wasn't in danger."

Luna nodded.

"I think my father would probably want to interview you, as a dimensional traveller."

Harry nodded.

"I… not yet. I need to get my head together."

"That's understandable. I know after my mother died, I had to get my own head together. I don't think I ever really did. I know my father was a very different man afterwords. Thank you, for your kindness. Not very many of my classmates show it, although your semi-siblings do."

"Well, you have one more person showing it."

"Thank you, Harry. That's very kind of you, as well. How did I die?"

"_Cruciatus_," said Harry, too surprised not to lie. "Then a _Telum Glacius_." He pointed to her chest. "In here, out the other side."

"Thank you, Harry. Wherever you lead me, Harry, please remember this. I did it of my own free will. It's not your fault, I died. You didn't hold the wand that killed me, and you didn't cast the spells that killed me. Besides, I'm in a happier place, now. I'm with my mother. I do hope my father doesn't join me to soon, but knowing him I rather imagine he will."

Harry nodded, thanked her, and returned to sitting with Azalea. She smiled kindly at him, but could tell he was shaken by what Luna told him. They talked a little about OWLs, but the conversation was subdued.

Soon, the evening meal was over, and the long tables disappeared, while Professors Longbottom and Snape were transfiguring a dueling platform.

"You staying for the club?" asked Azalea.

"Everybody says I should, so I suppose I should," said Harry.

Students milled around, forming groups. Azalea was with a few of her friends from Ravenclaw. Hermione and Rachel were chatting together, while the other Harry was with a group of Hufflepuffs. Harry noted a group of Slytherin students, a single knot of them surrounding a boasting Malfoy. Harry frowned at the sight.

"You going to challenge him?" asked the other Harry.

"Why bother?" asked the shorter Harry. "I know I can take him."

"That's confidence."

"I've taken him before, I can take him again," said Harry.

"Oh, then you're definitely taking him down a peg."

Harry rolled his eyes at his twin.

They watched a pair of sixth years have a go at each other, mostly sticking to non-violent spells and minor conjurations, while Longbottom refereed. One of them disarmed the other, then trussed them up before they could try to wandlessly summon their wand back.

Two more duels went by, before the other Harry nominated a duel between Harry and Draco.

"Oh, joy! Another Harry Potter to make a mockery of," said Draco. "Maybe I should even give you the first spell to make it actually last."

Harry ignored Draco's goading, while the other Harry cheered him on.

"Have you ever formally dueled anyone before?" asked Longbottom.

"Not really," replied Harry, thinking of Voldemort in the Graveyard. "I recall you bow, and then someone says to begin. I know we're trying not to kill or maim each other."

"It's close enough to the rules as a Potter is going to get," commented Snape. "Bow. Begin."

"Serpensortia!" shouted Draco, while Harry muttered his own spell, Stupefy. Harry nearly laughed as he saw the fifteen foot snake slither towards him, and rather than tell it to bite Draco instead, cut it in half with a quick diffindo as Draco shielded the stunner. They began trading spells in earnest, Harry dodging his spells as Draco shielded the spells Harry sent at him. Draco tried to keep up with Harry's near constant barrage of stunners, disarmers, and other jinxes, but found he could barely get any spells off otherwise. He was, eventually, overwhelmed by Harry, his shield brought down by a stunner, Draco himself disarmed, and then trussed up with ropes.

"That felt surprisingly good," commented Harry.

"That was amazing," said the other Harry. "It's pretty rare for someone to casting like that, especially with spells that can batter down Malfoy's shields like that."

"It's not that hard," said Harry, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I've just had more practice. Felt good to take Malfoy down a peg, though."

"You realize everybody'll want to duel you, right?" asked other Harry.

Harry sighed, as he saw everybody gossiping and pointing. Now he wanted to leave.

"Yeah, I guess. I'll talk later, though," said Harry. He left the hall, while Harry frowned. Why didn't he want to be in the spotlight for a little bit? He had the bragging rights, didn't he? Harry paid no mind to Rachel as she watched his twin leave, and instead went back to Hannah and Ernie, and talked about how much of an embarrassment this was for Draco.

0x0x0x0

"Mister Potter," said Riddle, oozing his usual dignity. They were on the Black Lake. It was a bright winter day, and the surface was frozen over. OWLs were finished, and Harry was sick of staring at the stars. The dream, earlier, had been Harry screaming in pain as the Basilisk and Nagini bit him over and over again, until Riddle ordered the animals away.

"What now?" asked Harry, already starting to clear his mind.

"I received Dumbledore's response. He claims he was unaware of your torture at the hands of the muggles. I studied the ward stone he placed on the house. Monitoring was a direct component of the wards, thus he is likely lying. That, and one of your neighbors, Arabella Figg, is a known squib and was reporting to Dumbledore."

Harry grunted in response.

"I imagine you don't believe me," said Riddle.

"Why should I?" asked Harry. "You're an actor. You played the stuttering fool in first year, and the innocent school boy at Hogwarts."

"True, very true, Mister Potter," said Riddle. He conjured a very familiar muggle recliner, and sat down in it.

"That's my uncle's favorite chair," commented Harry.

"Yes. It was rather comfortable place to sit in while I questioned him," said Riddle.

Harry snorted at the image. The reptilian, inhuman, _freakish_ face of Lord Voldemort, seated and relaxing in Uncle Vernon's recliner was to much for him. He could easily recall the quivering horror, the building aneurism on his Uncle's face, as he swung between rage and terror at the wizard who murdered his parents.

"We are practicing Occulemancy, Mister Potter, not legillimancy," commented Riddle.

"Didn't realize they were your memories." Harry nearly said he was sorry, then realized this was Riddle. Why the hell would he ever say _sorry_ to this bastard?

"I may have been projecting a bit, Mister Potter. Now, clear your mind."

Harry closed his eyes, and pushed away the memory of his uncle, and let everything fall away. He felt the cold beneath him fade, he felt the wind across the ice become a gentle breeze, then nothing at all. Harry opened his eyes, and looked upon a massive expanse of nothing, and smiled.

Then the migraine came, and Riddle was standing next to him again.

"Very good, Mister Potter. Very good. And now, we practice keeping me out."

Author's Notes: Ouden put a couple of good questions in his review, and I figured I'd answer them, sort of.

I consider Riddle's want to take over the British Wizarding World a Means to an End. Riddle's goal isn't megalomania. Instead, it's Revenge. He wants to dismantle the Wizarding World, and build it back up again. Why? Because Albus Dumbledore built this Wizarding World, and he wants Albus Dumbledore alive to watch it _fall._ He may have lost that string of thought, that reason for going on, but getting his vengeance on Potter has kicked him back onto the rails of sanity, as it were. I'll probably go over that so more in-story

While everyone thinks he did, Voldemort (I've been having Harry call the new Tom "Voldemort," and the old Tom "Riddle" to keep it straight) didn't destroy himself in some accidental dark ritual. I've dropped a couple of hints, I think, about what happened to him, and there will be a few more before we get the full explanation.

As to Riddle luring Harry into the Ministry itself... well... he wanted to deal with two problems with one stone. Get the prophecy, and deal with Harry Potter. The easiest way to deal with Harry Potter, is to get him outside the protections he's surrounded with, whether that's Hogwarts, Privet Drive, or Grimmauld Place. Once Riddle knows the prophecy, he could just flatten Harry however he sees fit. We saw Riddle actually duel in the atrium. He's not a lightweight, and he's got forty years on Harry. Honestly, if Riddle wasn't showing off at the graveyard, Harry would be dead. Very, very dead.

And finally... as to Harry talking with Riddle himself? That's all Dumbledore's fault. We'll get to that, as well.


	7. Chapter 7: The Serpent

**CHAPTER 7 – The Serpent's Tongue**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

Harry awoke that morning, and nearly screamed in pain as the pillow fell off his face, peeling a scab from his forehead with it.

"That's never happened before," he muttered. He tried scourgifying the pillow, but it didn't help much. He decided to leave it for the house elves, and went to the bathroom. He looked like shit, with half his face stained with blood and his hair matted to his forehead. He washed himself, and changed, before getting ready to leave for breakfast.

Harry cracked and popped his neck, before heading down for breakfast. The day before yesterday had been his final exam. He felt thankful he'd had a chance to take his potions exam already, the thing was just as grueling, but he felt he did better even with Snape looming over his cauldron. Maybe it was because he expected it while brewing? Eitherway, he was thankful they were all done. It was Saturday, now, and he'd been heading… heading to the Potters, tomorrow. Home. Godric's Hollow.

He'd never gone. Not once. No one ever told him.

He sat back down on the bed, his head falling into the blood stained pillow, and cried tears for the parents he'd never met, the ghosts of replacements with their own son taking him in out of some strange duty. He'd failed them. He'd failed to kill the man who killed them, who killed his own friends in front of him, and… and… and now he never would. He couldn't. That man, no, that monster was beyond his reach.

He bite back his own wail of pain at that thought. That he'd never kill Voldemort, that he was the one prophesied to do it, and he'd never be able to do it. That no one would ever kill him.

It tore at him, but he held it all in, not letting it out, feeling occulemancy barriers that had been forming tighten of their own volition to hold it in, letting it roll around within him, tearing him up inside, burning itself out, even as his tears sank into the blood-stained pillow.

Harry didn't hear the knock at the door, let alone anyone enter.

"Hello?" asked a girl's voice.

"Go 'way," mumbled Harry into the pillow. He recognized the voice, sort of. High, dignified, cheerful. A good singing voice, he thought. That's right, Rachel.

"You alright?" asked Rachel.

"I'm fine," muttered Harry, as he pulled himself up from the pillow.

"You look like shit," she said. She glanced at the pillow, and winced. "Even more like shit. You do that regularly?"

"Most of it's from my scar," muttered Harry. He stood up, and stumbled into the lavatory. His face was covered in blood and tears, his lip torn apart again.

"Let me get that," said Rachel, and waved her wand, fixing Harry's lip.

"How'd you get in here?" asked Harry, washing his face. Rachel stayed out of the lavatory, at least, looking away as he cleaned himself up. _One more girl who thinks I'm a freak,_ he thought.

"I intern in the infirmary, so I've got an over-ride password for nearly all the doors."

"Huh, wish I thought of that. Lord knows I was in the infirmary enough."

"No, you sort of have to do the opposite, for Poppy to take you as an intern."

Harry grunted, taking the towel and drying his face. He put on his glasses, and wondered if he looked any better. He doubted it.

"Nightmare?" asked Rachel.

"Sort of," muttered Harry. "Occulemancy's making it better, but not much."

"Oh," said Rachel. She looked like she wanted to ask about it, but thought better of it. "Well, it's nearing dinner. You going to join us for the evening meal?"

"It's been that long?" Harry seemed to ask himself. He sighed.

"Yeah. Near as anyone can tell, you spent the entire day in here. Your brother was going spare."

Harry grunted again in response, still staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red, his lip was starting to scar from being torn open and healed.

"No," said Harry. "Don't want to deal with people. They all just point and talk at me, anyways."

"You should still eat," said Rachel, wondering just what the hell happened to him, that he didn't like being around people that much.

"I'll eat in the kitchens, then," said Harry, leading the way out of his quarters.

"You know where they are?" asked Rachel, following him.

"Yeah. Had a map of the school, showed where near everything was, including the kitchens. Weasley twins gave it to me in third year."

"Oh, thank god they're not going to be here, anymore."

"They're fun," said Harry. Something occurred to him, about the twins. "You guys have the Tri-wizard tournament?"

"Yeah," said Rachel. "Load of bull, if you ask me. Fluer Delacour won it."

"Huh," said Harry.

"Why?"

"I won it. Gave the winnings to the twins, so they could start their shop."

"You gave the Weasley Twins a thousand galleons?"

"Voldemort had just returned. I figured the world needed some humor."

"How did you win the Triwizard Tournament? Hell, how did you enter it?"

"Defense teacher that year was impersonating Alastor Moody," started Harry. "He wanted me in the Tournament, so he entered me as a fourth school. He also helped me a fair bit, under the table. Said it was a time-honored tradition to cheat. I out-flew the dragon for the first task, used gilly-weed in the lake for the second, and Moody imperious'd a few of the champions to make it easier for me to get to the cup."

"Why?"

"The cup was a portkey," said Harry. "Hermione looked into it for me, the wards here will destroy any portkey that isn't made by the Headmaster, even as far away as Hogsmeade. To prevent kidnappings, funny enough. So the cup was a portkey made by the Headmaster. Did you know it's possible to edit portrays?"

"Not really," said Rachel, as they went down another set of stairs, wondering where this was all going.

"Apparently, it's possible to add an extra destination to a portkey. The wards allow it, since it had been created by the Headmaster. So me and Cedric took the cup, and found ourselves in a graveyard. Voldemort and a Death Eater were waiting. They killed Cedric, trussed me up, and used me in a ritual to give Voldemort back a body."

"Nobody's really said how Voldemort was resurrected here," said Rachel. "Or if they do, nobody's talking. Professor Dumbledore said there was a dark ritual involved, and it happened last year."

Harry grunted in acknowledgment, as he tickled the pear. The portrait swung open, and a half-dozen house-elves were running about.

"He say who died for it?"

"No."

Harry grunted in response. He spoke with the house elves, and arranged for dinner for the two of them. He thanked the elves, and they stared at him with their usual wide-eyed bewilderment.

"So what have I missed?" asked Harry.

"What do you mean?"

"I know Professors Longbottom and Black switch off most years to avoid the curse, so I was wondering what the school's like?"

"Well, I mean, where do I even start?"

"First year, Quirrell was teaching?"

"Unfortunately. Did he stutter as much as in your year?"

"Did you guys have the third floor corridor of certain death?"

"Yes."

"Then he probably had Voldemort underneath his turban. That was just disturbing, watching him take it off and _oh look, it's Voldemort!_"

"Voldemort?" asked Rachel. "He had Voldemort in the back of his head?"

"I'm surprised he didn't do a better job teaching, honestly," said Harry. "He was also killing the Unicorns out in the Forbidden Forest."

Rachel shuddered.

"Don't tell me you had that detention."

"Detention? In the Forbidden Forest?"

"No? Lucky. Running screaming for you life while Draco Malfoy breaks down and cries is not my idea of a fun time. Second year?"

"Sirius Black's first year," said Rachel. "So we actually learned something, and it was pretty fun."

"That's good. Was the Chamber of Secrets opened?"

"Yeah. Ginny Weasley had this creepy diary. I noticed it, and handed it off to McGonagall. Supposedly, there's some sort of monster under the school, but now the Chamber's closed no one wants to find out what it is."

"It's an eighty foot basilisk," said Harry.

"And how do you know that?"

"I killed it," said Harry, pulling up his sleeve, showing off the angry scars on either side of his arm. "This is where it bit me."

"Oh, christ. That's what bit you? A _basilisk_? Poppy said it was healed with phoenix tears, but it didn't heal completely."

"Yeah. The second of my interesting scars. The Chamber itself is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, on the second floor."

"Really? You're going to have to prove that."

"Sure. Now or later?"

"Now. I'm not waiting all summer."

"Fine. Come on," said Harry. He thanked the elves for the meal, and lead Rachel out of the kitchens.

"So I heard something about dementors in third year?"

"Yeah. Sirius was in Azkhaban for betraying my parents. He was framed for it by the man who did it, and when Sirius found out where the man was... well... he escaped Azkhaban to hunt him down. So, Fudge being Fudge, had the Dementors surround the school as a precautionary measure. They nearly killed me three times."

"Three?" asked Rachel.

"On the train in, during a Quidditch match... and when we helped Sirius escape. I was nearly eaten by a werewolf then, too."

Rachel shook her head in disgust.

"Sirius said my life was one heaping pile of shit piled on another heaping pile of shit, I think."

"So why tell me?" asked Rachel.

"Honestly? Because you act like you care."

"Only act?"

"I've been lied to before."

Rachel was silent, as she followed Harry to the bathroom. They avoided the Entrance Hall entirely, hiking up to the third floor, and then coming back down. He glanced either way down the hall, before opening the door.

"Myrtle?" asked Harry, ignoring the half-inch of water on the bathroom floor. "Myrtle, are you here?" After a moment's silence, Harry nodded, then walked up to the sinks.

"I thought you were kidding about this bathroom," said Rachel.

"Hogwarts is weird," commented Harry. "There's hordes of secret rooms and passages. My dad and his friends made a map, I think the Weasley Twins still have it." He leaned over one sink, glancing at the side of it. "_Open_."

Rachel jumped back, as she watched the entire basin open like it was the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Wow," said Rachel. "And you just have to say open to that sink?"

"No, you... wait, what?"

"You said 'open' to the sink."

"I... hang on." Harry pulled out his wand. "_Serpensortia_."

A simple green garden snake appeared on one of the sinks.

"_Say hello,_" said Harry, while Rachel looked on in confusion.

"_Hello?_" said Rachel.

"_Hello? Two speakers?_" replied the snake. "_Two? What is thy bidding, speakers?_"

"_Finite_," said Harry, the snake disappearing.

"What just happened?" asked Rachel.

"You're a parselmouth," said Harry. "You can talk to snakes."

"I- I can?" asked Rachel.

"Yeah. Don't... don't tell anyone. It does nothing but get you in trouble."

"How does that happen?"

"Name two parselmouths besides yourself."

"Salazaar Slytherin and... and..."

"Voldemort," supplied Harry.

"Oh," said Rachel. "And you..."

"Got publicly outed, so everybody assumed I was a budding dark lord at the age of twelve."

Rachel winced.

0x0x0x0

"Something is on your mind, Mister Potter," said Riddle, appraising the kitchens around him. They were empty, at the moment. Riddle claimed it was an off day, letting Harry's mind rest and rebuild itself stronger than before.

"A bad day," said Harry. "And a weird couple of days."

"I imagine," said Riddle. "Miss Granger is awake. Angry, but awake."

"Tell her I said hello, and try not to crucio her to much," said Harry, knowing it was all he could do.

"I was planning on tempting the girl, not turning her into a sycophant. I have several rather large libraries, and not all of them are full of treatises on the Dark Arts."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Harry. "Speaking of books, turns out the Chamber of Secrets wasn't really opened on this side. Any tips on taking control of the basilisk?"

"No. I bound the creature as a familiar. And what do you mean by books?"

"Your diary? The one you gave to Lucius for safe keeping? He snuck it into Ginerva Weasley's cauldron my second year."

"It was destroyed?"

"With a basilisk fang. From your basilisk. After I killed it."

Harry dragged up all his occulemancy shields in preperation for the ensuing temper tantrum, but instead felt nothing. He lowered them, and waited.

"Done yet?" he asked.

"No. I'll be taking it out on Lucius. Or maybe his son. I'm not rightly sure yet. He does still have his uses, right now."

Harry nodded, still surprised.

"I am not a madman, Mister Potter. Or, at least, I try not to be. I am aware that your personal experiences with me suggest otherwise, but you may ask Dumbledore. You yourself said I was a skilled manipulator and actor."

"You just have problems with your temper."

"Yes... yes, that's very true, Mister Potter. I have, however, suitable outlets for that temper."

Harry merely nodded at this. He could already tell Riddle was planning on talking for a time.

"Speaking of tempers, I'm surprised you've become so calm over my presence."

"Alice Longbottom and James Potter both seem to think it hasn't hit me yet. They say it'll just... just creep up on me. One moment, everything'll be normal, and then everything'll just explode in my head."

Riddle hmm'd, as he looked incredulously at Harry.

"You're obviously not the right person to talk to about this," added Harry.

Riddle's smile became only crueler.


	8. Chapter 8: Godric

**CHAPTER 8 – Godric's Hollow**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

Harry tried his best to ignore the thestrals as they pulled the carriages to Hogsmeade. Rachel and Hermione joined him in the carriage and on the train. It was easy enough to get there. He'd never unpacked his trunk after his shopping trip. Now he was headed for... for Godric's Hollow. The place where his parents died, and where James and Lily Potter lived.

The strangeness of it was crushing. His stomach, at times, felt like lead. At other times, it felt like somebody was punching him, repeatedly. But mostly, he wanted to puke the last six meals he'd eaten, and then some.

And then there was the headache. It was both physical, and metaphorical. For one, it seemed Riddle (he'd stopped thinking of him as Voldemort entirely) had decided he needed to learn Occulemancy even more so than before. For the other, it seemed that Hufflepuff Harry was a bit of a worry-wort. Harry felt he was practically hanging off of him, making sure he was alright, to the point of, well...

"GET OFF ME!"

"But..."

"JUST GO!" Harry shouted. He wanted to tear his hair out. Having someone constantly hover over him. It felt like some weird cross of Snape and Hermione, to be honest, and he didn't like it. Hermione, at least, cared. Well, his Hermione did. This one seemed much more... distant.

Rachel looked at him for a long moment, as the taller Harry finally left the compartment.

He wondered, idly, if his parents were just taking him out of some strange sense of pity and duty. They weren't _his_ parents, after all. They had a Harry Potter. He was... an extra. A spare.

He clamped down on a thought before it could rise. His occulemency, according to Riddle, was proceeding well.

He sat and meditated, running through the exercises Riddle beat and drilled into his head. His hands stopped shaking, and he ran his fingers across the scaring on his hand. How many other scars did he have?

He sighed. At least Riddle didn't try and go digging through his memories.

It was strange. Like a switch was flipped in both their heads. They treated each other as... something. Polite Rivals, maybe? Was it because he felt so numb, right now? So unable to feel except the sudden bursts of misery and depression? Or was it well and truly because Riddle did, in fact, treat him as an equal? That Riddle considered him a threat, dealt with him, and now could just treat him as an equal, one who could not betray his trust, betray his secrets? Well, he could, but only to people who could insult an entirely different Riddle.

Harry decided he'd had enough of a headache for the train ride. He chatted with Rachel and Hermione, and was glad that Draco made no attempt to arrive and bother him as the train pulled into the station. He got down Hermione and Rachel's trunks, and spent a few minutes getting down his own and staring at it for a long moment. It was different. Strange.

So many things were different, strange, and yet exactly the same. Hannah Abbot and her stunner problem. Minerva's stern, but kind demeanor. And yet... things were different, weren't they?

And now he'd told this Harry to bugger off.

Harry sighed internally, realizing James and Lily would now throw him out on his ass. Maybe he could room in the Leaky Cauldron? No, that wouldn't work. He didn't actually have any money.

Hell, everyone was being friends with him out of pity anyways. Why shouldn't he be surprised? If he was thrown out on his ass, he was thrown out on his ass. He supposed he should at least apologize to Harry.

He arrived at this thought as the train pulled into the station.

_Time to face the music_, thought Harry, as he stood and went to get his trunk.

The platform was as crowded as always, but it had a weight to it, a sense of worry and nervousness.

_Everybody knows Voldemort's back_, supposed Harry. He saw his twin, and caught up with him.

"Harry," started Harry. "Listen... I'm sorry about being short with you on the train."

The other Harry blinked at him, surprised.

"Azalea said I was being a little too close, afterwards."

"Clingy," supplied Azalea. "Figured you weren't used to it."

The other Harry rolled his eyes, but continued.

"You didn't have the best childhood, and... well... I guess I'm just trying to understand you."

"And I guess you can try and show me what normal looks like, right?"

"Yeah."

"You know our uncles, right?"

"Uncles?"

"Yeah, Sirius, Remus, and Peter?"

On this, Harry was silent for a moment, before nodding. He couldn't pass judgement, not yet. After all, that might have been the difference, here. Peter might not have betrayed the Potters. He might not be a Death Eater at all. Besides, wouldn't they have figured it out by now? Seen the tattoo on his arm if he was?

"Sirius and Remus, yeah. Remus actually taught third year," said Harry, hoping to deflect the conversation to safer waters.

"Even though he's, well, you know? With his furry little problem?"

"It's why the he was fired," supplied Harry.

"Oh. Hang on, I see Mum and Dad. Over here!" shouted the other Harry, waving. Harry looked, and saw James and Lily, standing with Sirius. It warmed his heart, to see Sirius standing in broad daylight, happy and smiling, rather than trapped in that godforsaken house of his parents. Harry smiled a little at that.

Azalea ran past both of them and hugged James. James promptly lifted her up and spinned her in the air before putting her back down. The other Harry looked bashful as Lily hugged him and kissed him on the cheeks.

He only felt more of an outsider as they both looked at him. James shook his hand, while Lily smiled at him.

_ I'm not their son_, he thought. _But at least it's better than the Dursleys._

"Harry!"

Both of them turned to Rachel.

"Not _you_," she said glaring at the other Harry. "Harry, keep in touch, alright?"

"I will," replied Harry. He wished he had Hedwig with him. Dumbledore still hadn't sent anything back, according to Riddle. He'd speak with him tonight, more than likely.

Rachel smiled at him, and then went off through the barrier with Hermione.

"Already picking up girls?" asked James.

"Not really," he replied, recalling his disastrous date with Cho.

"So who have you dated?" asked Lily, leading them away from the train.

"There was bad date with Cho Chang," said Harry.

"A _bad_ date with Cho Chang?" asked other Harry. "How do you have a _bad_ date with one of the hottest girls in the school?"

"She was still hung up on Cedric's death. She spent most of it crying."

"Cedric?" asked other Harry. "Cedric Diggory?"

"Tri-wizard tournament. We took the cup together." Harry didn't add "so it's my fault he's dead," but he thought it. He squelched it, though, hammered it down with Occulemancy, so he looked bright and normal for these people. After all, if he wasn't normal, they wouldn't take him, now would they?

"You were in the tournament?" asked Azalea.

"Who the hell let you be in the tournament?" asked Lily.

"Crouch and Dumbledore just said I had to compete, since my name came out of the Goblet."

"You were underage!" said Lily. "Hell, you're _still_ underage! How the hell were your forced to compete?"

On this, Harry shrugged.

"According to Crouch, it was in the rules, a magically binding contract. Granted, he was under an imperious, so he might have been lying."

There was a fair amount of quiet at this, as they stepped through the floo to "Potter Cottage."

"Did anyone ever teach you to walk through a floo?" asked James as he helped Harry to his feet.

"Not really. I never used it very often."

"Not often?" asked James. "Why not?"

"I was living at Aunt Petunia's," replied Harry. "Not many chances to use it."

"What about visiting friends?"

"Fourth year I went with the Weasleys to the World Cup. I also stayed with them for part of the summer of Second Year."

The adults gave each other Significant Looks, while the other Harry gave Azalea a worried look. Azalea just rolled her eyes.

Harry held back a sigh, having noticed all of this silent communication. Did they honestly think he was an idiot?

"Let's show you your room, and give you a tour of the house, alright?"

The house itself was nice. It wasn't overly large, the Potter's weren't hugely massively rich, they were just well-off. Petunia would, disdainfully at best, and with an arrogant sniff, call them, grudgingly, "Upper Class." They weren't old money – although the family and the house were old – they were a regular working family with two children. They did have a few extra bedrooms, and the house was ancestral, but there weren't six houses, four hundred rooms, or a Quidditch pitch on the back lawn. There wasn't even a house-elf.

He was installed in a second floor bedroom, which apparently was normally one of the two guest rooms they had. It was now, supposedly, his room. They hadn't thrown him out, and left him to fend for himself. He wasn't sure if he was surprised by that or not.

He packed all of his clothing into his wardrobe, and placed the shirt with blood flecks on it at the base of his trunk. He stared at it for a moment, before moving on. What happened to his things, he wondered? Were they going to be artfully arranged in the Ministry? Would they be put on display? Or would Dumbledore horde them away, like so many other things?

One more thing to ask Riddle, he supposed.

0x0x0x0

Albus Dumbledore was... concerned.

He'd finally had time to sit down and think about his conversation with this other Harry Potter. There were only two people capable of teaching occulemancy that were readily accessible. Himself, and Severus Snape. It was clear the boy would not turn to Severus, given Severus' animosity towards anyone named Potter. And he did not turn to Albus.

Why was he taught Occulemancy? To what purpose did the other Harry need to master such a skill, and why could the other Albus not teach the boy himself? Why did the other Albus need to have Severus teach the skill? The animosity between James and Severus had obviously carried over to Harry and, to a lesser extent, Azalea.

What was it he had muttered? "Riddle always calls me Mister Potter, too." What could _that_ possibly mean?

Albus took a lemon drop, and considered it from every angle.

0x0x0x0

Lily Potter was also concerned. And she was also concerned about the other Harry Potter. She was concerned, however, for different reasons.

"He doesn't trust us," said Lily.

"Who?" asked James.

"Harry."

James took a second to figure out that statement.

"We're his parents. Of course he trusts us."

"No. We aren't. He wasn't even raised by us, James."

It was then, that James clued into who Lily was talking about.

"We're still his parents."

"Not in his eyes," said Lily. "Harry, our Harry, says he calls us Lily and James."

James felt he was punched in the gut. Lily knew how important family was to James. He'd been raised a Potter, he'd been raised amongst stories of his ancestors, by his own father and mother.

"And I suppose that's part of the problem."

"What?"

"I said 'our Harry.' We have our Harry, and the other Harry. We have our son, and we have... someone who looks like our son, is named the same, but isn't the same."

"What are you suggesting?" asked James.

"I don't know," said Lily. "Something to... to differentiate the two, but also to drawn them closer to the family."

James considered this for a long moment, before nodding, a smile widening on his face.

"What are you thinking, James?"

"I'm thinking Me, Sirius, and Peter have a project for this summer. What did Minerva say Harry's transfiguration grade was?"

"Ours got an EE, both practical and theory, while... while the other got an EE due to his lack of theory. His practical was O material on it's own. What are you... oh, no. No. You are not teaching them _that_. Harry gets into enough trouble as it is."

"You said you wanted a way to differentiate them, and what better way than a nickname? And you saw his Patronus. He wants to be closer to his family. He wants to be closer to his father."

"And our Harry?"

"I was planning on teaching him anyways. I was holding off to see his OWL grades first, though. I wanted to start something of a tradition with the Potter men."

"Just the Potter men?" asked Lily.

James rolled his eyes.

"I'll teach Azalea, as well."

Lily glared at him a little more.

"And you," he added, finally.

"If we want this to be a family bonding experience. I don't like leaving Azalea out."

"Just tell her she has to do well on her OWLs, and I'll train her up, same as the others. Hell, she'll probably make sure she gets an Outstanding."

Lily looked like she was about to argue that point, when the fire turned green, and a head formed in it.

"James, Lily! Good to see you! What's this I hear about you two having a second son?"

"Peter, step on through," said James. "We'll introduce you for dinner. Sirius and Remus will be by shortly."

Peter stepped through, and brushed off some imagined flecks of soot.

"And what have I told you about that blasted glove?" asked Lily.

"I don't look like _Michael Jackson_," mumbled Peter, removing the glove to reveal a silver hand.

"Much better," said Lily. "Besides, if you keep it polished, it actually looks nice."

**Author's Notes**: DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUN. The next chapter has one of my favorite scenes. The nice thing about being five chapters ahead (well, four and a half), is I can go back and edit things when I need to.


	9. Chapter 9: Dinner Complications

**CHAPTER 9 – Unfortunate Dinner Complications**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

I must take a moment, for I must make an announcement: I received my first flame! It warms the blackened and cold cockles of my heart. Sadly, much like many first times, it wasn't even a very good one. To my anonymous source of fiery wrath, I am very sorry that I keep mentioning the events of the books, but it does give me a rather good method of showing how different people react, and how different people act. If it makes you feel better, I'll be moving away from Harry's past in chapter twelve. Which brings us to the plot. We'll be dealing with the Horcruxes, although we'll be avoiding the Deus Ex Machina that are the Deathly Hallows.

Also, I've added a few sentences to Dumbledore's thinking in the previous chapter to clarify Dumbledore's concerns. One of the reviews suggested Dumbledore didn't know who Riddle actually was. Which reminds me: Please review. Feedback, good or ill, is my lifeblood.

Enough on that, though. Onward with the storying and the plotting.

0x0x0x0

_What is your family like, Mister Potter?_

_ Why do you care? _Harry stared at the ceiling of his room. What few books he'd collected were on the shelf. He supposed he'd get more, eventually.

_ Curiosity. Also, something to use against Miss Granger._

_ They're taking me in out of... duty. Or pity. Maybe both._

_ Likely duty. The Potters are an old pureblood family, steeped in tradition. Family is, first and foremost, all important. They were one of the few families to recognize illegitimate children, but it never mattered, given how few there were. The Potters actually married for love, rather than power._

_ Studied my family history?_

_ I wanted to know something of the family I was planning on destroying. The Potter family is an old one, though not very powerful politically. I suspect it's the reason your parents relied on the Fidelous Charm, rather than the truly massive wards the Longbottoms defend themselves with._

_ The Longbottoms are rich?_

_ Unquestionably. What will happen with their fortune and power is, at present, up in the air. Dumbledore is having repeated meetings with Augusta. To what end, I am unsure. My personal belief, is he's attempting to have it all left for him, so that it might be used "for the greater good." I will likely send an envoy to her. Hmm... I do believe I have some of his blood, somewhere. I'll have to speak with Severus._

_ So how is Hermione?_

_ Angry. Depressed. Possibly suicidal._

_ Get her muggle books on dealing with suicidal thoughts and depression._

_ What?_

_ That's how she learns, and how she deals with things. By reading and understanding it. When your monster was traipsing around the school, she was in the library figuring out it was a basilisk, when all of the teachers were sticking their heads in the sand or trying hard not to blame me for it. I doubt you'll want to take her to a muggle psychiatrist, so that's what you'll have to do. There's also the fact that you murdered all her friends._

_ Very true, Mister Potter._

_ Is she even going back to Hogwarts?_

_ I am... unsure, as of yet. I do not wish to just hand her back to Dumbledore, although whether or not Dumbledore will still be in charge of Hogwarts remains to be seen. There is, however, the ongoing problem that she hates me, and she'd rather like to be back with her parents. Are there any messages you wish me to pass on?_

_ That I miss her. There's a Hermione on this side, but she's no where near the bossy know-it-all that I loved as a sister. And that if you or any of your Death Eaters do hurt her, I'll find a way back to rip you all limb from fucking limb._

This was met with laughter on Riddle's part.

_I will pass that on, Mister Potter._

_ Of course, Mister Riddle. Any other news?_

_ The Ministry is falling apart. Fudge refused to believe I'd returned until I walked into Diagon Alley at the head of my Death Eater's, and announced my return, the prophecy, and your banishment. After a nice cackle of sadistic glee, I announced the wizarding people of England would be safe as long as they did not stand against me._

_ I'm sure that went over well._

_ As well as to be expected. There was cowering and pissing of selves amongst the crowd. Dumbledore arrived, and rather than fight him, I asked "where, oh where, has your little savior gone? Oh where oh where could he be?"_

_ You're insane._

_ Answering his questions with children's rhymes, especially muggle ones, drove him up the walls back when I was at Hogwarts. The man treats everyone like a child. Mocking him for it is a duty I take gladly._

_ And his answer?_

_ He gave his usual long and grandiose answer about you being safe and protected. "As safe and as protected as in his relative's home? The home he was raised in by muggles?"_

_ Oh, no._

_ Oh, yes. Welcome to politics, Harry. I know how much you hate having people aware of what happened to you. I assure you, I feel much the same way about my own past. I wish it buried, never to see the light of day. That I was born a half-blood matters not. Why do you think I allowed Severus into my ranks? That I was raised in an orphanage, away from wizarding society? That I was worked and beaten as a child? Those matter to me. They are my secrets, Potter. I tell them to you, so that we understand each other. We are to much alike, Mister Potter. I more than believe Dumbledore worked to ensure we were as _equal_ as he could manage._

_ Continue, _growled Harry, realizing from experience he wasn't going to win this argument.

_ He lied. He said yes. I am a Slytherin, Mister Potter. I'd hoped for this confrontation, and with an audience, I received it. I suspect he was planning on somehow summoning you back to save them all. So I summoned one of those blasted, worthless Harry Potter books from Flourish and Botts. Did you know there were story-books about your childhood? An entire adventure series of them. It makes you nauseous, doesn't it? An eight-year-old version of you, going off and defeating this and beating that. There was an expectation of you, Mister Potter. I informed them all it was a lie. That you were raised by muggles. You had no adventures. Instead, at the age of four, you were forced to learn how to use a muggle stove. That you were worked, starved, and abused, and kept in a shoe cupboard under the stairs as though you were a worthless house-elf. That your lone daily meal, if you were given it, consisted of bread and water. That Albus Dumbledore knew this, he knew that the wards he placed kept watch over you, and he knew you were starved, worked, and nigh-broken, and he did _nothing.

_ And?_

_ Albus attacked me. He finally realized he had no hope for political battle he wanted, and attacked me. With fifty Death Eaters standing right there. Granted, most of them were idiots, and just stood there watching, but Severus... oh, that wonderful man, Severus, he cast the Killing Curse at Albus._

_ Snape, right?_

_ Yes. Severus Snape. He had a childhood as dreadful as ours, Mister Potter. A truly abusive father, a mother who looked the other way. His only salvation from it, was a rather kind girl who lived nearby. Her name was Lily Evans._

_ L-Lily Evans? As- As in?_

_ As in your mother. He asked me to spare her. I'm told you recall bits and pieces of that night?_

_ That's why you asked her to stand aside. Severus asked you._

_ Yes. Severus believed you'd been raised as the pampered Gryffindor prince he believed you to be. Instead... he realized I was right, when Albus attacked me, attempting to cut me off. Oh, the look of betrayal on Albus' face. His phoenix stole him away, then and there, as all of my other Death Eaters finally pulled the heads out of their asses, and drew their wands. I, however, had to lay one final insult at his feet. "This never would have happened if you told Potter the prophecy."_

On this, Harry was silent and withdrawn. He knew Trelawny had given the prophecy. He suspected, and wasn't surprised to hear, that Albus was the one who heard it. It all was to much, really. Riddle was silent, as well.

_Thank you... for the news, at least._

_ Of course, Mister Potter. I presume you wish to remain updated?_

_ Yeah, it'd be nice to know. Especially how Hermione's doing. _Harry paused, unsure of what to say, unsure of just how to ask Riddle what had happened to his things, and who received them.

_ Just so you are aware_, began Riddle, sensing a hesitancy on Harry's part._ This time, it will be less violent. My resurrection and your banishment have brought me back in touch with my mind, I think. My attacks will be few and far between. I have the leverage to win this politically, rather than physically, and I would much prefer that challenge. I no longer need to hide in musty manors and dusty dungeons, as it were. Instead, I strode into Diagon Alley without a single wand raised. It will be... intellectual battle of politics, rather than the physical chessmatch of violence, as it were._

_ Huh, _replied Harry, not entirely understanding just what Riddle was talking about._ You said you were interested in keeping the muggleborns?_

_ Yes._

_ Are you going to be bigoted and racist against them?_

_ Perhaps a little. I'm still undecided, but Miss Granger is definitely giving them weight in their favor._

_ Then teach them how to act in the wizarding world. Give them a class on the differences. Have Hermione put it together._

_ You know... I've been meaning to teach Miss Granger etiquette and comportment. And I rather believe Madam Longbottom would like to speak with someone who knew Neville._

_ There is the fact you murdered her grandson._

_ True, true. But I can give offer of an _heir_, Mister Potter. There are potions. Illegal potions, certainly, but still potions. I have an apology that she cannot refuse._

Harry thought for a moment before supplying the answer.

_ There's a potion to make a girl pregnant using only a man's blood, isn't there?_

_ Very good, Mister Potter. It's also illegal. Severus knows how to brew it, however, as he had to for Lucius and Narcissa._

_ Lucius and Narcissa? The Malfoys? Why?_

_ Lucius, let us say, cannot get it up for woman._

There was a moment of silence.

_Is this a silence of confusion, or horrified comprehension? _asked Riddle.

_ Confusion,_ said Harry.

_ Lucius prefers the company of men in the bedroom._

_ Oh. _A pause. _How does _that_ work?_

_ Did no one ever give you The Talk, Mister Potter?_

_ The Talk?_

_ The birds and bees? How a man loves a woman, and what they do with each other in the bedroom?_

_ Err..._

_ I'm surprised. You spent time with Arthur Weasley and Sirius Black, and no one gave you that talk?_

There was a moment of awkward silence.

_ I'm not going to give you that talk, Mister Potter. Ask James. Or Sirius Black. Or the werewolf. Or even Severus. _Anyone_ but me._

_ Sirius tried, I think, once, _said Harry, hesitantly, recalling their last Christmas together._ He was pretty drunk at the time, though._

There was a sigh on Riddle's part. It was a strange mixture of terror and resignation.

_I am still not going to give you The Talk. It is something that should be given by a trusted paternal figure. I am not, and should never be one._

_ Right,_ said Harry, agreeing entirely.

0x0x0x0

"Azalea! Harries! Dinner!" shouted James from downstairs.

"Harries?" asked the taller Harry, already out of his room.

"You've known him longer," replied Harry, stepping out of his room.

"How do you like the house, so far?"

"It's... nice," said Harry.

"Ever been here before?" asked Azalea.

"No."

"No? Why not?" asked the taller Harry.

"I think it was destroyed?"

"And never rebuilt?" asked Azalea

Harry shrugged.

"Oh, right. Well, come on, you'll get to have dinner. Be normal, and all that."

Harry nodded, before joining them in heading down the stairs to the dining room table.

Sirius and Remus were already there, joking about animagus forms when the kids came down into the front hall.

"There they are!" said Remus, smiling.

"Harry, Harry, Azalea," said Sirius. "Come on, everybody's in the dining room already."

Harry followed the close-knit family into the dining room. He hadn't had much of a chance to really look at Sirius and Remus, before. Sirius looked... healthy. Sane. Like a functional member of society. Well, as much a functional member of society a marauder could be. Remus wasn't dressed in the same shabby, rundown clothes as he was, last time. Certainly, they weren't spectacular, but he wouldn't be sneered at by the higher parts of society for them. Both of them seemed... easier. Happier.

In the dining room, Lily was floating in all of the platters and trays. A short, pudgy man was gesticulating wildly with James, and Harry caught sight of his hand.

It was silver.

He looked closer at the face, and he recognized it. It was cleaner, more groomed, but the buckteeth and small eyes were there. Harry's face went stoney as he took cues from the others on where to seat.

_The graveyard,_ Harry shouted in his mind._ Where was it?_

_ The graveyard? _asked Riddle. _Little Hangleton. Why?_

_ Wormtail. He has a silver hand here, too._

_ Ah. I'll have to trust him that little bit more, then. Good luck._

Harry sat in silence, keeping his eyes on his plate.

"You alright?" whispered Azalea.

"Fine, fine," said Harry. "Just... just wasn't expecting this."

"Expecting what?"

"So, Harry?" came Peter's voice. "Nobody's really heard you say anything about me. I was curious. I know Remus taught, and Sirius was in Azkhaban of all places, but what about me?"

Harry looked up at him. His face was impassive, stony and motionless from long practice. His eyes looked at the silver hand for a long moment, recognizing every detail of it. James recognized that look. It came up whenever someone asked Sirius about his family. He didn't think this would be a good conversation.

"Where did you get that hand?" asked Harry, entirely ignoring Peter's question.

"This?" asked Peter, confused by the sudden question, but still smiling a little. "A bit of a scuffle in Albania. Some Dark Wizards took it off, but a friend of my employer enchanted this."

"Really?" asked Harry, incredulous, but cold. "My world's Wormtail had one, as well. It looked exactly the same, except he got it in a graveyard in Little Hangleton, near a marble headstone that read Tom Riddle."

"What?" asked Peter, blood draining from his face. Harry stared into Peter's eyes, and Peter began to realize just how different Harry was from the boy he knew.

"He got it for helping in a ritual. You know, bone of the father, unknowingly given?"

"What are you talking about?" asked James, his hand at his wand.

"Show them your arm," said Harry.

"How- how do you-" said Peter, his entire body quaking.

"Show them you arm, Death Eater. And not the arm you gave as _flesh_ of the _servant_."

"How did you-" stuttered Peter, over the dead silence of the table.

Harry pulled one of his sleeves up to reveal a long, thin scar.

"Because I was _blood_ of the _enemy_, forcibly taken, Wormtail." He stood, and the dishes began to rattle around him. "Whose blood did you take? Moody's? Or did you lot actually manage to get a hold of Albus Dumbledore's to resurrect Voldemort? Now show them your goddamn arm."

All the adult's wands were out. James and Remus were pointed at Harry, while Sirius and Lily's were pointed at Peter. Peter remained silent, so Harry continued to speak.

"You were a traitor before I was even born, weren't you? You weren't the Secret Keeper, though, were you?"

"Secret Keeper?" asked Sirius, his wand shaking. "I wasn't the Secret Keeper?"

"I always wondered if you'd asked Sirius to bring up the idea of using you as the Secret Keeper," said Harry, ignoring Sirius. "I suppose it was wishful thinking on my part. Now show them your damn arm."

"Please," said Lily. Peter looked at her, her wand pointed at his ashen and white face, and his silver hand rolled up his sleeve to reveal a blank forearm, clean and white.

"See? It's blank! I'm not a Death Eater."

Harry stared at the skin, seeing the veins stand out, as Peter looked nervous. How could he test it? Could he? Well and truly, could he test it?

_You can,_ came Riddle's voice. _The Mark does not hide in my presence. It _cannot_ hide in my presence. Touch it. Wish it to reveal itself, and it will come._

Harry was unnerved by Riddle's comment, but didn't show it. Instead he walked around the table, James and Remus' wands following him. It seemed he understood, now, how they felt about him. How much or how little each of them trusted him. He didn't think about it. Instead, he recalled how Voldemort had called his followers in that Graveyard. How Voldemort just reached out and touched Peter's arm, Peter's Mark. Harry stepped up to Peter, and reached out to his forearm, and touched his finger to it.

He could feel what was there. He could feel something within him, that strange warmth of his mother – his actual mother – some of the same emotion, that same magic that burnt Quirrel come to the surface. Peter hissed in pain as white skin blackened and pealed, drifting off in blackened flakes as the Mark revealed itself.

Harry stared at his hand for a long moment, realizing that the magic, the protection of his mother's love still remained, that it protected against not just Riddle, but this Voldemort as well.

"What did you do?" asked James, as he and Remus shifted their wands to Peter.

"Not in front of the traitor," growled Sirius.

"He- he did something!" said Peter. "He had to! I- I don't- I would never!"

"You lied when we found you. You claimed you didn't betray the Potters, after hiding as a rat for twelve years. What was it that Sirius said?" asked Harry. His eyes looked distant, strange. "'You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you?'"

"I- I-" stuttered Peter.

"Whose blood was it?" asked Harry, again.

"Alastor Moody's," supplied James, as Peter continued his horrified stutter. "And they used all of it. His ghost came to us, the night after the Goblet of Fire selected the champions."

"Halloween. He fell that night, and he resurrected himself that night," said Harry, connecting the dots. He looked down at the table, realizing the food was scattered across it from his burst of accidental magic. He saw the horrified looks on the others, and immediately spoke. "I'm sorry. I can't even have a normal meal."

With that, he turned and ran up stairs.

Author's Notes: The scene with Peter I had written for quite a while. One of my early takes on this had Harry walking, with a broken leg, from near the Black Lake to Madam Pomphrey's, and then waking up with Lily Potter fretting over him. He promptly loses it, writing it off as a horrible and tasteless joke on Malfoy's part, while questioning Lily and Azalea on the "supposed" differences. I managed to get as far as Harry killing Peter in the infirmary before it ran out of steam. I realized how much of a dead end it was, and set it aside. The ending of this scene's been reworked a number of different times, although I've kept very few of them.

The first scene, though... the ending ties into rather important details later. Hilarious, horrifying details.


	10. Chapter 10: The Spare

**Chapter 10 – The Spare**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

To my anonymous reviewers: Thanks for the reviews. **Cloudsky**: Civil conversation with Voldemort will be halfway explained next chapter. The rest, the chapter after that. **Walking by**: I was more referring to name, than appearance. How are James and Lily going to refer to each Harry? I'll add a little bit later on to clarify that.

0x0x0x0

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Sirius, opening the door to the guest bedroom.

"Packing," said Harry, throwing the clothes into the trunk. He stopped, staring at the trunk. "I suppose I can't keep them, can I?"

"Keep what?"

"The clothes. James and Lily bought them for me." He began shoving them aside, digging towards the bottom of it the trunk.

"What are you talking about?"

"They're throwing me out," replied Harry, pulling a shirt and pants with brown flecks on them out from underneath all of the other clothing.

"They aren't throwing you out, you idiot. Did you honestly believe that?"

"Why wouldn't they?" he asked, without turning to look at Sirius. He didn't see the the look of horror on Sirius' own face.

"You're family?" asked Sirius, hoping it was the right combination of rhetorical and sarcastic to get the point across.

"No I'm not," replied Harry. "I'm just that kid that looks a lot like _their_ kid. The one they pitied, and took in because he's got the same last name."

"You honestly believe that?" Harry stopped

"Well why the hell else would they take me in? Lily said they were taking me in because I was raised by _Petunia!_ What the hell am I supposed to believe?"

On this, Sirius was silent. So he tried a different tack.

"Fine. Suppose, for a moment, you are being kicked out. Where would you go?"

"Dumbledore, maybe. He's probably looking for a ready-made weapon against Voldemort."

Sirius shivered at how casually Harry said His name.

"You think Dumbledore operates like that?"

"Who do you think left me on Petunia's doorstep?"

"Now, I don't think he left you on her doorstep..." said Sirius, trying to make a joke.

"HE LEFT ME ON HER FUCKING DOORSTEP!" shouted an angry Harry. "_LITERALLY_ ON HER DOORSTEP, IN A GODDAMN BASKET, WITH ONE OF HIS HALF-ARSED, HALF-TRUTH, SANCTOMINIUS FUCKING _NOTES!_"

"That can't be true," said Sirius.

"Hagrid was there for it," grumbled Harry, already back to his strange calm, burst of anger gone. "Petunia whined about it enough, that I wanted to find out the truth. Hagrid can't lie, even if his life depends on it. And when is Albus _not_ pulling his high and mighty routine?"

On this, Sirius knew the truth. Hagrid couldn't keep his mouth shut. The marauders had used him, once or twice, to spread rumors or misdirection to the staff. He needed a long talk with the others. Except Peter. Merlin, how hadn't he seen it? How had he avoided it? The job, barely three weeks after finding out Voldemort was still alive, after a fashion? The one that traveled the world over, including, eventually, Albania? How he'd gotten the limb while on a trip, the same time as Voldemort returned? Moody even said one of the Death Eaters willingly gave a limb!

As for Albus? Well, he did have the disappointed grandfather act down to an exact science.

"Here's a deal for you, alright?" started Sirius, half-remembering a dream he didn't want any recollection of. "If, by some strange circumstance, James and Lily do throw you out on your ear, you'll come with me, alright?"

Harry stared at Sirius for a long moment.

"I'm your Godfather," said Sirius, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "No matter what, you're James and Lily's son, and they named me your Godfather. I'll take you in, no matter what."

"Long as we don't have to live at Grimmauld Place," said Harry. His eyes shined a little bit, and there was a ghost of a smile.

"Hell no. I grew up there. I wouldn't inflict that on anybody. Why, did you have to live there?"

"Dumbledore decided it'd be a good, secret place to have the Order gather at."

"Did they at least get rid of the painting of my mother?"

"Nope. Everybody tip-toed through the front hall. Except Tonks. She tripped on that damn troll-leg umbrella stand every time."

Sirius smiled at that.

"Girl's a clutz, no matter what dimension she's in. Now come on, let's see what's going on downstairs, alright?"

Harry nodded, and followed Sirius back down to the dining room. They entered the dining room, and Peter's gasping breathes immediately assaulted their ears. He was tied to his chair. One of his eyes was blackened, and blood was trailing from his mouth. Remus and James were standing, towering over him.

"Where's Lils?"

"Keeping the kids out of this. Why's Harry here?"

"He's seen worse than this. What's the plan?"

"Unbreakable Vow," said Remus. "We were deciding who gets the honors."

"Harry," said James and Sirius. Remus looked at the pair of them.

"What's an Unbreakable Vow?" asked Harry.

"It's in the name," said Sirius. "Peter makes a vow to you. He breaks it, his magic kills him. He can either be a spy for us, or we're going to kill him here and now."

Harry stared at Peter for a long moment.

"Just kill him, instead."

Remus and James looked at him.

"Why?" asked Sirius.

"In my dimension, or world, or whatever, you, Sirius, recommended him as the Secret Keeper, and then you, James, and Lily never told _anyone_. Not Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore cast the spell," said Sirius.

"What?" asked Harry.

"None of us were powerful enough to cast the spell, at least not on a whole house. Dumbledore had to cast it with the Secret Keeper."

Something hardened in Harry's face.

"Harry?"

"He knew. He knew the entire time, and made sure you never got a trial, Sirius. All because of that blasted prophecy."

"Let's not be hasty," said James, looking at the others with a significant look that Harry missed.

"But... he's Dumbledore," said Remus, not noticing the look, either. "He's a great man... he... he always works for everybody."

"Yeah, for _everybody_," said Harry. "And if someone has to make a sacrifice or two in the process? If one boy has to treated like shit by his own relatives, and the one man who could possibly be his legal guardian has to go to prison, just to be sure?"

"Thish is why I 'oined 'oldemor'," muttered Peter.

"And how long would he torture you when he finds out we know?" asked Harry.

On this, Peter was silent.

"Rock and a hard place," said Sirius.

"I wan' 'umble'ore."

"And Azalea would like a pony. Your point?" supplied James.

"Remus, how do you like the taste of rat? Full moon's coming up in a few weeks," asked Sirius.

On this, Remus was silent, staring at Peter for a long moment.

"I think I could live with the indigestion," he said. "I have to wonder how many of our friends this breathing turd sold out."

"I ne'er sol' out _you_."

"My parents beg to differ," said Harry. His face was the only one not to betray the rage the others felt.

"I'll 'ake the 'ow," said Peter.

"Harry, go upstairs with the kids, but send in Lily. I'll keep watch on Peter. Sirius, Remus, you work with Lily on the vow."

"Right," said Harry, walking for the door.

"Harry?" began Sirius.

"Yeah?"

"Our talk isn't done yet, alright?"

"Alright."

Harry stepped out of the dining room into the sitting room. Lily held her wand in a white-knuckle grip, pointed at the floor. She looked at Harry, then drew him into a hug.

"Thank you," she said, as she released him.

"For what?"

"For... for telling us. For warning us."

"James wanted you in there," said Harry, changing the subject. "For the wording on an Unbreakable Vow."

Lily nodded.

"Will you three be alright?"

Azalea and the other Harry nodded, while Harry just stood there. Tears were starting to streak Azalea's face, while the other Harry was trying to look stoic and comfort her, and failing on both counts miserably.

"Will you?" asked Lily, looking at Harry.

"I'll be fine."

She gave him a long look, then went into the kitchen.

"Come on, let's get upstairs," said Harry, ushering them upstairs.

"This is why you didn't talk about Peter, didn't you?" asked the other Harry.

"Yeah."

"Why'd he do it?" asked Azalea. "Why?"

Harry shrugged, as they followed him into his room.

"Power, maybe. Or Voldemort offered him something."

"The Dark Lord?" began Azalea. "You... you said you were there for his resurrection. How'd you escape?"

Harry retrieved his wand, looking down at it.

"Luck. It's always been luck," said Harry. "My wand shares a core with his. Dumbledore's phoenix. He wanted to duel me, prove he wasn't afraid of me. Our spells connected, and it became... became a battle of wills, I guess. I won."

The other Harry swallowed, staring at Harry. He'd won a battle of wills against the _Dark Lord_? The way he said it, the matter of fact humbleness of him, that he shrank from the spotlight after beating Malfoy convinced him. Harry was speaking the truth, and hated it. He hated being in the spotlight. He wanted to hide in the background, and live his life.

The other Harry remembered how Lily and James praised each of his achievements, how proud they were of him at each step of his life. He remembered how happy James was as he demonstrated his accidental magic, and how much glowing praise Lily lavished on him as he and Azalea learned their letters. And then a horrible thought struck him.

Did this Harry get any of that praise? Did Petunia say he was good? That he did the right thing?

He suspected he already had the answer.

"That ritual," asked the other Harry, before Azalea could change the subject. "That was when Cedric died?"

"Yeah. Voldemort was this ugly baby thing. Peter cast the Killing Curse. Voldemort said... said... Kill the Spare."

Unbidden thoughts boiled to the surface as Harry's body folded in on itself.

Kill the Spare.

Those hissed words, uttered by the small, tiny thing that caused him so much pain and misery. Cedric and Ginny's blank eyes staring up at him, empty and lifeless, silent and full of blame.

"It's your fault," said Ron, stepping out of the shadows, a thestral trailing behind him, licking at his wounds.

Neville dragged himself forward, the rest of him trailing behind, an accusing finger pointed at him.

Luna just looked sad, standing, but twitching from the pain, a spear of frozen blood protruding from her heart.

And then there was Hermione. She was trapped, engulfed in the net. Voldemort stood behind her, a strange mixture of smiling and scowling.

"You couldn't save me," she said. "You couldn't save them, and now you can't ever save me. You aren't even Harry Potter, anymore. You're just the _Spare_."

"It's all your fault," said Ginny. "You couldn't save us. Now you're the spare."

He knew it. There was a Harry here. He was the spare.

Neville took hold of his leg, rage and incrimination were upon his brow, even as his organs were splayed out behind him.

Harry knew what happened to the _spare._


	11. Chapter 11: Family

**Chapter 11 – Family**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

Note: Long Chapter is Loooooooooong (er than average).

0x0x0x0

"Mum!" shouted Azalea, barging into the dining room. "Something's wrong with Harry!"

Lily, Remus, and Sirius dropped the parchment they were writing notes all over. Remus went one way, while Lily and Sirius followed Azalea back up stairs.

Lily found her son unsure what to do, kneading his hands together while watching on with apprehension and nervousness, while Harry was rocking on the bed, knees clutched to his chest, whispering under his breath.

"Harry?" asked Lily, getting onto the bed. Harry barely twitched at her touch, unoticing of it as she took hold of his hands. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

"Flashback," said Sirius.

"A what?" asked Harry.

"What were you talking about?" asked Sirius, ignoring his question.

"The ritual. He said Peter killed Cedric, then he just started, well, that."

"I'm the spare?" asked Lily out loud.

"Kill the spare," said Azalea. "That's what the dark lord told Peter to do. Do you... do you think he thinks that... that we'd..."

"Kill him?" asked Sirius. "No, but he did think we'd throw him out after Peter."

"WHAT?" shouted a horrified Lily.

Then Harry screamed, his entire body seizing and shaking as his scar opened with a torrent of blood.

0x0x0x0

"Hello, Miss Granger."

Hermione glared up at the Dark Lord as he entered her room. She had a rather nice balcony room, overlooking the rolling hills of a quaint English village. She'd already tested the balcony, finding it warded against going over the side. She did have her wand, but the wards were anchored by her captor himself.

On her bedside were several tomes of ancient, nearly lost healing magic, along with a set of muggle self-help books on depression, suicide, survivor's guilt, and post traumatic stress disorder.

"What do you want now?"

"No need to get tetchy, Miss Granger."  
"Given the number of potions I'm on, that's about all I can get."

"I don't want you re-opening any wounds, Miss Granger. I am more than aware of what those spells did to you, and I want you to heal. Right now, I have a few simple questions for you," he said, taking a seat in a regal wing-backed chair near the crackling fire. It wasn't connected to the floo network, nor was there any floo powder.

"About what, _Tom_?" she asked, her eyes never leaving him. She'd taken to calling him that because she assumed it annoyed him.

"Mister Potter. It's a curiosity, mostly. He doesn't hate me."

"What?" asked Hermione, confused.

"I'm bewildered, myself. I killed his parents, killed his friends in front of him, told him I murdered his godfather, and have prevented him from ever coming to your rescue, and yet Mister Potter doesn't hate me in the slightest."

Hermione stared at the noseless man, quite taken aback by this vein of conversation.

"Mister Potter doesn't even hate the filthy beasts that have the disgusting distinction of being related to him."

"His relatives? You... er..."

"Know about them? Yes." He retrieved a copy of the Prophet, with a picture of Vernon and Petunia Dursley being hauled away in chains from Privet Drive. "I questioned the disgusting little beasts. I believe the wizarding public in general has shipped them off to Azkhaban, in hopes of somehow making Potter reappear to save them. Did you know, Miss Granger?"

"I... I suspected. That they weren't entirely kind to him. I didn't... none of us realized how... terrible it was for him."

On this, the Dark Lord gave a careful nod, watching her. She'd learned, the hard way, that the Dark Lord brooked no lies. He knew. He always knew, and would ask until the truth was given. He never used spells, or potions, or wards, just words. Just uncomfortable, distressing topics and conversations. Hermione suspected he used their verbal sparing as a sort of method to unwind, and on some level, missed it.

The Dark Lord winced, suddenly, his long fingers drifting to his temples to massage them a moment. Hermione heard the whispered "Potter, you skull-buggering cretin."

"Is Harry listening?"

"No. He's having a..." the Dark Lord trailed off, waving his hand at the Post Tramatic Stress Disorder book, having it leap to his fingertips, and glancing at the index for a moment. "Flashback. Pardon me while I wake him from it." He waved his hand at the door, opening it. "You, in here."

The Death Eater guarding Hermione's room entered it, shiviring at being in the presence of his Lord.

"Yes, Mi'lord?"

"Miss Granger, has this man called you a mudblood, or any other derogatory epithet?"

Hermione glared at the Dark Lord, seeming to say "what do you think?"

"I'll take that as a yes. _Crucio._" The Dark Lord's wand was in-hand, and had made the two quick jabs of the spell. Hermione shivered at the sight of anyone, even a Death Eater, screaming his throat bloody. Hermione wasn't sure how long the Dark Lord held the curse, didn't want to know at all how long the man was held under the incredible pain and torment. In that instant, Hermione was reminded she wasn't just a prisoner in a nice hotel, but a prisoner of the Dark Lord Voldemort himself.

When it ended, trails of smoke lifted from the Death Eator's robes, revealing just how much power the Dark Lord put behind the spell.

"When I say someone is a _guest_, and that they are to be _treated with respect_, I mean it. Get yourself to the infirmary, or die trying."

The Death Eater managed to get to his knees, and half-crawled, half-pulled himself out of the room. Another wave of the Dark Lord's hand slammed the door behind the broken man.

"Idiots and imbeciles. Now, Miss Granger, I come back to my question. As you might imagine, I am rather familiar with the emotion, and in my entire time being linked to Potter, I have never felt it from him. Why doesn't Potter hate me? Why doesn't Potter hate _anyone_?"

0x0x0x0

Harry stared at an unfamiliar ceiling.

"Harry?" came a voice. It was familiar, female.

He opened his eyes to see Lily Potter. There was something warm and wet across his brow.

"Are you alright?" she continued.

Harry took stock of his situation. The now-familiar ache of the Cruciatus was present, but fading away. He was lying in the bed, still clothed, and no nasty tasting potions in his mouth.

"I'm fine," he murmured.

"What happened?" asked Sirius.

On this, Harry was silent, trying to think up a good explanation.

"It was your scar, wasn't it?" asked Lily.

Harry nodded, then realized what he'd just agreed to. Not even Sirius would let him stay. Not with that elephant on his forehead.

"His scar?" asked James.

"It's still a connection to Voldemort, isn't it?"

At this, Harry could do nothing but nod, knowing he was caught.

"Oh, Harry," said Lily. "He tortures you with it, doesn't he?"  
"He used to," murmured Harry.

"Then what was _that_?" asked James.

"Waking me up," replied Harry. "He's... he's been teaching me occulemancy. Saying it'll help me deal with... with, well... everything."

"Why?" asked Sirius.

"He doesn't want my nightmares in his head," replied Harry.

On this Harry was pulled into a tight hug by Lily. He unconsciously flinched at the contact, but relaxed into it a little bit, even as Sirius spoke.

"No, _why_?" asked Sirius. "_Why_ do you talk to him? Hell, he murdered your friends, _how_ can you talk to him?"

On this, Harry was silent.

"Don't you hate him, Harry?" asked James.

"No," said Harry. He started kneading his shirt, hands clasping and unclasping the hem of it. "I don't know why. I know I should. I know I should hate him. I should hate Dumbledore, I should hate the Dursleys, but I don't. I- I- I don't know. I get angry, but it cools off, eventually."

He looked up, to see James confused, but Sirius white as a sheet.

"We need to floo Andromeda," said Sirius.

"What? Why?" asked James. "We're taking him to a healer."

"Prongs, think for a second. How did he get that scar?"

"By defeating... oh, god. The prophecy."

"What would happen if that got out?" asked Sirius, trying to be the level-headed one, just once. "He's already had one fucked up life, we can give him a sane one. Sure, people will think its odd there's two Harry Potters, but he won't be The Boy-Who-Lived."

"Floo Andromeda," said Lily. "Tell her we'll pay for her time, whether she wants us to or not."

Sirius nodded, and left.

"Harry?" asked James. "Did you really think we would throw you out?"

Harry's silence was telling.

"You may not truly be my flesh and blood, Harry, but you are still a Potter. You were born a Potter, and you'll die a Potter. As a Potter, you will _always_ have a place within this house."

0x0x0x0

"He doesn't?" asked Hermione, leaning back in her bed, deep in thought.

"Not in the slightest Miss Granger. I find his lack of hate disturbing."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, blinked twice. Then her eyes widened.

"The Dark Side," said Hermione.

"A conclusion, Miss Granger?" asked the Dark Lord, patience wearing thing.

"Dumbledore considers Harry his successor as Lord of the Light."

"Obviously, Miss Granger."

"He wanted to be sure. He wanted to make sure Harry would never succumb to the Dark Side. That he would never succumb to _hate_."

"His deviousness and manipulations are endless," muttered the Dark Lord.

"When I was studying Occulemancy, I came across a number of different Mind Magics. Do you have the book _A History of Magic of the Mind_?"

At this, the Dark Lord thought a moment.

"No, my library on the subject covers the more practical aspects, but Lucius likely does."

"There's likely a spell in there. Can someone fetch it? I recall something in that text."

"Of course," said the Dark Lord.

0x0x0x0

"Hello, Harry," said a fair, black-haired woman that looked, again, familiar.

"Hello. I'm sorry, but I don't think we've met."

At this, the woman seemed surprised, but introduced herself.

"Andromeda Tonks, Harry. I'm Sirius' cousin."

"Oh. I think I've met your daughter, er- Tonks."

At this, Andromeda smiled.

"I honestly don't know why Dora doesn't like her name, but that's neither her nor there. Shall we get started?"

At this, Harry nodded.

"Excellent. I'm going to cast a few spells on you, to build a full medical history. Now, Lily has stated your weren't raised entirely properly, and you are a little shorter than your brother, so we'll start with some diagnostics covering your nutrition, bone health, and a few other things that Poppy wouldn't normally check."

At this, Harry nodded. Andromeda began casting spells, and making notes on various pieces of parchment. Harry paid attention to her, noticing the visual various cues that said something bad had happened. He only glanced at James as he re-entered the room. She stopped for a moment.

"Harry, did Poppy _ever_ give you a medical check-up?"

"Unless she did it while she was treating me, no."

Andromeda stood there in silence. The signs were much quieter, much more refined in Andromeda, than they were in Petunia or Vernon, but they were there. The way her entire body moved, now, the way her eyes seemed to flash. The way her brows knitted together, or the white knuckle-grip on her wand. There were a half dozen other signs that Harry learned to recognize, and all of them made him wary.

He had to remind himself Andromeda was likely angry for him, not angry _at_ him. He wondered, idly, if he'd ever seen it happen before. No, he couldn't think of any time it had.

Andromeda began casting more diagnostic charms, and given that she would spend a minute or two scratching with a quill, he guessed the results weren't good.

"I don't think Poppy realized quite how bad the malnourishment was. Harry, do you ever have aches and pains?"

"Generally when I've just gotten back from the Dursleys, why?"

"It's a symptom of starvation. Thankfully, as a wizard, you can't get scurvy or undergo refeeding syndrome, but Rickets is seen on occasion."

"Rickets?" asked Harry.

"Fragile or deformed bones from a lack of Vitamin D. Generally, it's caught at Hogwarts, and most of it can be reversed."

At this, Harry was silent.

"But, Harry doesn't..." started Lily. "He doesn't have any bone deformities."

"You're right," said Andromeda. "He doesn't. He's also _extremely _underweight." She seemed to have an epiphany, and cast another spell. "Well. That explains a fair amount. Harry, when was the last time you got a hair cut?"

At this, Harry was silent for a long moment, before answering.

"I think my aunt shaved my head once, maybe when I was seven? It grew back overnight. Why?"

The adults all shared another significant look.

"Harry, you've got some metamorph talent," said Sirius.

"I do?" asked Harry, surprised. "I've never done anything like Tonks does, though."

"I said some, Harry," said Andromeda. "For the amount of talent you have, you've made rather impressive use of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, for someone of your height, you should weigh around a hundred and fifty pounds. Given how thin you are, I would guess you weigh around a hundred and twenty-five."

"How much does he weigh?" asked Lily.

"One hundred and four."

On this, Harry was silent, taking up a defensive ball position.

"Oh, Harry," said Lily, sitting down on the bed next to him.

"I imagine you're even lighter when you arrive from the Dursleys," commented Andromeda.

At this, Harry gave a tight shrug.

"Well, we'll work on getting you to gain some weight, alright?"

Again, a tight shrug.

"Now, your eyesight is worse than your brother's."

A tight nod.

"What's odd, is that it's due to exposure to what I can only describe as failed potions experiments, directly to the face."

"Potions experiments?" asked Sirius.

"Petunia doesn't strike me as the type to allow potions in her house," added James.

"Muggle cleaning products," said Harry. "I've been splashed in the face a few times, and Petunia didn't consider it important for me to wash my face."

Harry felt Lily clutch him a little tighter, and on some level, was thankful for it.

"Is there anything that can be done?" asked James.

"There's a few potions that can clean out the nastier ingredients. Have you had a lot of itching and aching in your eyes?"

"Yeah."

Andromeda wrote out a prescription with a quill.

"Alright, this should help with that. Two weeks, twice a day. Right after you get up, and before you go to sleep. Except to cry a bit more than usual, as well. Now... there's two other things..." Andromeda trailed off, not certain how to proceed.

"Just spit them out," said Sirius. "Two more horrors aren't going to break us."

"First is that scar on your forehead. I'm not rightly sure what that is, but there's definitely something attached to it and I have no good idea as to how to get rid of it."

"There is, and I'm aware of what it is," was all Harry said on the matter. "The other?"

"You've been... cursed. Or hexed. I'm not sure what it's classified as, it's not really my area of expertise, but I do recognize the spell. It's a type of behavior modification spell, rarely used except to mediate blood feuds."

"What does it do?" asked Lily, even as Sirius blanched.

"It binds away a person's hate. Makes them entirely incapable of feeling the emotion."

Harry sat there, contemplating the bed sheets for a moment before he spoke.

"Little fucking _wonder_," muttered Harry.

"Can it be undone?" asked James.

"It's dependent on how old it is. The spell itself was meant for negotiations, so it was meant to be removed after two or three weeks. Like most mind magics, it comes with the... usual warning."

"Which is?"

"If it's not removed, it becomes entrenched within the mind. The spell changes the person's behavior. Eventually, it becomes permanent. That generally takes a year."

"How old is it?" asked James.

"At least a decade," said Andromeda.

She watched Sirius remove his wand, and tap Harry on the forehead. Harry swore he heard the sound of a piece of glass breaking when it happened, but no one heard anything.

_Potter, was that what I think it was?_

_The sound of a mind magic being broken?_

_ Good. Granger asked me to inform you of it. She suspects a magic meant for negotiations from the eighteen hundreds. The incantation is _Odeum Deleo_, if you wish to double check._

_ You thought that, as well?_

_ I'm very familiar with hate, Potter. I've never felt any off of you, and I wondered why. Miss Granger suspects Dumbledore._

_ Really?_

_ Something about the Dark Side, and how hate would lead to it._

Harry sat, confused for a moment.

"Harry?" asked Andromeda. "Are you all right?"

"The incantation, is it _Odeum Deleo_?" asked Harry, avoiding the question.

"It is," said Sirius. Everyone looked at him. "What? I was raised to be the prominent pureblood. Means I learned a lot of history and all that rot." At this, James rolled his eyes, but turned back to the conversation. "How did you know?"

Harry glanced at Andromeda, then back at Sirius.

"Andy? Please?" asked Sirius.

"Can you check on Harry and Azalea?" added James.

She took a long sigh, as she looked at her younger cousin, before nodding and leaving. Sirius made a wand motion at the door.

"Silencing charm," he said for Harry's benefit. "He felt it, didn't he? When I broke the spell?"

Harry nodded.

"He thinks it was Dumbledore. Something about hate leading to the dark side."

At this, James and Sirius glanced at each other.

"Why would _he_ have watched Star Wars?" asked James.

At this, Harry's eyes widened.

"Hermione," he whispered.

"What?" asked Lily, watching as some small sliver of joy appeared on his face.

"Hermione's alive. He wasn't lying."

Author's Note: It's called Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome nowadays, but no one ever pays any attention to that. The translation of the spell is, hopefully, "Minding Hate," although I feel it looks more like "Minding Contempt." Unfortunately, hate has Germanic origins, rather than Latin or Greek, so my choices on the spell name were either _Mens Contemno_ or _Mens Destestor_, according to either an online translator or my faince's English-Latin dictionary. I prefer _Contemno_, personally.

EDIT (9/11) – So a few reviews pointed out some errors, and I'm going to fixing them. First off, **blackroselover** pointed out how different the appearance of Narcissa and Andromeda is, so there's a small change in that introduction.** Ouden** pointed out that my latin is terrible (which is to be expected, since I was using an online translator, and double-checking the meanings with an English-Latin dictionary). Ouden's spell translates to "I destroy the hate." /EDIT

The next chapter was kicking my ass, combined with a sudden resurgence of another story. I think I've finally managed to staple it all together, and am hoping the staples aren't _too_ obvious. Oh, well. The other story has, probably, some twenty-odd drafts. A few of them might make their way into the ideas bin... after I finish the present one and post it. I think I've finally hit upon the outline I want. Now I just need to finish pounding the bastard out. If I do, it'll be a rather massive one-shot. I've gone through far to many drafts of it to start posting it.


	12. Chapter 12: Aftermath

**Chapter 12 - Aftermath**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

Note: There were a pair of changes to the previous chapter, along with an explanation of what they are in the author's note.

0x0x0x0

Lily stepped out of Harry's room a few minutes later, and immediately turned to Andromeda.

"Be honest with me. Was he physically or sexually abused?"

"Beyond the malnourishment?" asked Andromeda. At Lily's nod, she continued. "Doubtful, which surprises me. He had a broken arm around the age of seven. Given how weak his bones are, I'm surprised he didn't break more. The one thing that worries me, is he does have a number of callouses and grease burns on his hands. Combined with his comment on muggle cleaning agents, I suspect they worked him, and worked him hard. Cooking, cleaning, it wouldn't surprise me if he was in the garden as well. How are his Herbology grades?"

"We don't know, yet. We'll find out when the OWLs come in."

"Make sure any chores he has are similar to Harry's. I'd question doing any cooking, but maybe if you were there with him, it would be alright. I'd also set strict limits on what he's supposed to do."

At this, Lily nodded.

"I may ask him for help with breakfast, I think."

Andy nodded.

"You keep an eye on him. Your sons are going to be very different people, Lily, but they're both good kids."

"I know. Thank you for taking the time."

Andromeda smiled.

"It's what family's for, right?"

0x0x0x0

A sense of enforced normalcy fell over the Potter household. Everyone seemed tense, anxious, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eyes didn't go to the now empty place at the table, when Sirius or Remus were there.

Harry, however, thought it business as usual, and somehow felt more comfortable settling into the Potter household. Lily explained how the chores were divided up, and when she saw him get out of bed early, she wondered if he'd be interested in helping her make breakfast.

"What are those? They smell good," asked Azalea. It seemed the Potter women got up early, while the Potter men didn't. Harry, it seemed, was the exception that proved the rule.

"Crepes," said Harry, rolling another one.

"Oh. Why are you making crepes?"

"There were two pounds of strawberries and a lot of whipped cream."

At this, Lily looked slightly embarrassed, but made no comment. Azalea noticed, and went in for the attack.

"Ah," said Azalea. "I take it we were out of chocolate syrup?"

"I didn't see any," said Harry, "but it wouldn't go well with them."

Azalea realized the comment had gone entirely over his head, but not her mother's. Her mother was remaining as silent as possible, though.

"Chocolate generally goes pretty well with Strawberries, right mum?"

"Yes, yes, of course," said Lily, wondering just how she was going to punish her daughter for this. She couldn't ground her, that would be to obvious. That Harry hadn't caught on yet, though? James and Harry's minds were thoroughly stuck in the gutter, but this Harry seemed so innocent, for all the violence he'd lived through. Then again, he hadn't grown up with Sirius and James, which seemed to explain everything, in her mind.

Which brought her back to Peter, which killed her embarrassed smile instantly. Azalea caught it, frowned, likely realized what Lily had thought of, and her own gentle teasing went away as well.

Harry noticed the crestfallen faces of the Potter women, and made no mention of it. He instead turned back to breakfast, and dished out the crepes to the ladies, and set some aside for himself.

"Nothing for Dad and Harry?" asked Azalea, noting they were taking everything.

"If they wanted it, they could be down here eating it," said Harry with a small grin.

That day, Harry started in on his assignments in his room. Before he got to far into them, Lily dragged him downstairs to the dining room table, sat him down Azalea, and they started in on it together. There was a little cleaning that had to be done afterwords, but nothing to horrible. James were both up by lunch, which was soup and sandwiches. After that, James called something of a family meeting.

"Alright, now, all of you know Remus is a werewolf, right? I'm not walking into that part of this blind?" began James.

At this, all of the children nodded, Azalea and her Harry slightly confused, while Harry wondered if, maybe, just maybe, he suspected correctly as to what this was about.

"Now, I know Azalea's been wondering just how we spend time with Remus on the full moons, and your Remus told you, Harry, right?"

At this, Harry nodded, while the other Harry looked surprised. Harry wondered, idly, what had happened to the other Remus. Sirius was, according to Riddle, dead. He hoped Wormtail wouldn't be the last of the Marauders.

"The answer is, of course, the Animagus Transformation."

"What the hell!" shouted Azalea. "Why didn't I realize that before!"

"We weren't very obvious about it," said Sirius, amused by Azalea's response. He was surprised they'd managed to pull one past her. He assumed she'd figured it out, but just hadn't said anything. Instead, she actually didn't know.

"One more thing," added James. "Because I'm an Auror, we've gotten magical exemptions for the three of you." Harry blinked at that. He was, all in all, surprised that such a thing existed, but then again, why shouldn't he be surprised?

"What's the requirement for those?" asked Harry.

"Mostly, parental consent, and just cause."

"Could just cause be a heaping pile of money?"

"If your last name is Malfoy, yes," said James.

At this, Harry nodded.

"Malfoy has one of these?" asked the other Harry.

"Of course he does," replied Harry. "Why wouldn't he? If his father could give him an advantage, something to put his son above those 'uppity mudbloods'" at this, Harry performed a halfway decent caricature of Lucius Malfoy, "he'd take it."

"He's still a rich piece of shit," said the other Harry.

"He's a rich, _murderous_ piece of shit," corrected Sirius.

"Enough about Malfoy. The reason we're bringing this up, is because you two have passed your OWLs. Azalea, we'll start you on the meditations, but you're going to have to wait until after your Transfiguration OWL as well."

"Can I take it early?" she asked, immediately.

"Only if you think you can get an O," was Lily's immediate response. "Otherwise, it's an EE in fifth year."

Everybody except Harry ignored Azalea's pouting. Harry just patted her on the back.

"He's just worried about you," said Harry. "It's dangerous magic, and they want you to be prepared, unlike they were."

"How do you know that?" asked Remus.

"Letters with Sirius," said Harry. "I asked him about doing it, once. He said not unless someone was there to spot me."

"Good, at least I was sane enough for that," said Sirius. "Granted, we did it the hard way, which was meditation, meditation, and more meditation, followed by more meditation and then some tricky self-transfiguration. You three are all going under the potion to determine your form, then you get to do the self-transfiguration."

"So, am I drinking the potion?" asked Azalea.

"No," said Lily. "I am. I'm also the one making it, since it's a controlled potion."

At this, there was some discussion (along with not-so-gentle ribbing of James) about the Animagus transformation itself. The potion itself revealed one's form, without undergoing vast amounts of meditation to find it, but it didn't stop the meditation and self-transfiguration required to make the transformation. The potion took a week to brew, and while that was happening, they'd learn the meditation techniques necessary for afterwords.

Harry had the most trouble with the meditation, even with added pointers from Riddle. Everyone, it seemed, was having a little trouble reaching the right state of mind for meditation. It only became worse when Peter's body was found outside the wards. James found him, thankfully, before Azalea or either Harry could.

Harry recalled a conversation with Riddle, after the Vow was made.

"Does a vow protect the mind?"asked Harry, standing at the parapet of the Astronomy Tower, looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts.

"No. I assume they made Peter make an Unbreakable Vow?" asked Riddle, seated once more in Vernon's recliner.

_ "_They did. To me, even. Sirius was the binder." Harry watched in consternation as a Thestral cleared the trees, before dipping back down below them.

"The terms?"

"That he not give up my secrets, that he spy on the Death Eaters, and that he tell us everything he gave up to Voldemort."

"He'll be dead by next week, then,"commented Riddle. He sighed. "I imagine Bellatrix will have an amusing time with him."

"Bellatrix is dead on this side."

"Dead? How?"

"She died with you, apparently. The pair of you were, supposedly, blown up in some sort of experiment into the Dark Arts."

"Supposedly?" asked Riddle, an eyebrow raising in curiosity.

"I doubt it. Dumbledore seems to doubt it, too. I've no idea what that means, though."

Riddle hmm'd a moment, before speaking.

"What did he say?"

They were in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was at his desk, and Harry was seated before it. Fawkes, Harry felt, was staring at Riddle.

"The problem," began Dumbledore, "is we don't know who our chosen one is, Mister Potter. It is possible that it may very well be you. Or perhaps it refers to an entirely different Dark Lord. Given our Voldemort did not mark anyone that we are aware of as his equal, we have found that we have no choice but to face him in direct confrontation."

"We. He means the Order of the Pheonix," said Riddle. He leaned back in Vernon's recliner. "He has a suspicion. It's not Longbottom, is it?"

"Neville's dead. Killed by the LeStrange Brothers, before Alice and Frank could kill them. I forgot to ask about Crouch, though."

"Interesting," commented Riddle. He stared back at Fawkes, before sighing. "Blasted Bird. Blasted Dumbledore. Blasted everyone. I had hoped my life would become simpler with you out of the way. Then you had to be reasonable."

At this, Harry snorted, and shifted the surroundings back to the Astronomy Tower.

"I really did. Really, why don't you hate me now?"

"You didn't know?" asked Harry. "It's permanent, by this point. I've had it for at least a decade. Everybody thinks Dumbledore cast it on me right before putting me with the Dursleys."

Riddle was silent at this, staring at the machinery above him, watching a clockwork solar-system make its rounds around a brass sun.

"You have a suspicion, as well," started Riddle.

"What?"

"About who lived."

At this, Harry was silent.

"I'll get it out of you eventually, Potter. Miss Granger is mostly healed, so I will be no longer feeding her calming draughts. It should be interesting, when her emotions can rise up enough to truly scream and torment me."

"Are you going to let her visit her parents?" asked Harry.

"I think I may do the opposite, actually," said Riddle. "It would be easier to allow a pair of guests into the manor, than to make sure she doesn't escape. I wouldn't be surprised if she could already apparate."

At this, Harry smirked, before turning back out over the parapet.

"That seems like something Hermione would do. Speaking of hate, though," began Harry. "Why don't you hate me?"

"I never hated you, Potter. Disgusted with you? Disgusted with your lacksidasical attitude towards your classwork, and your abominable endless luck? Yes. Hate? No. I hated your mother, however. She's the one who cast the spell, and she's the one who destroyed me at the cost of her own life. I can respect such dedication, and hate her for it. You were merely the aftermath that everyone vaulted onto a pedestal. Your mother, alongside Miss Granger, were each one more Muggleborn, proving my views wrong." Riddle sighed, reminiscing for a moment. "I suppose it takes the touch of death himself to change a man such as I," he mused.

Harry found himself dragged from his recollections with a knock at the door.

"Harry?" asked Lily.

"Come in," said Harry, still getting used to the idea of people actually knocking. Even in Grimmauld Place, people didn't knock on his door.

"How are you settling in?" asked Lily, as she stepped into his room.

"Alright," said Harry. "It's... weird, though."

"Weird?" asked Lily.

"I've got none of my things," said Harry.

"What were they?"

"There was the Firebolt Sirius got me, my dad's invisibility cloak," - Lily felt a pang of pain, but kept it off her face – "and the photo album Hagrid gave me. And... and Hedwig."

"Hedwig?"

"My owl. Hagrid bought her as a birthday present when he first showed me Diagon Alley." Harry sighed. "It's... weird, not having her. Like something's missing."

"How long did you have her?"

"Since first year. Hagrid bought her for me."

"It's enough time to build a familiar bond, especially if you two were close."

At this, Harry nodded.

"James wanted to talk with you, along with Sirius and Remus. About Dumbledore and the Fidelius."

"What about it?"

"I don't know how much you know about my career... I'm a spell researcher. I pick apart charms to figure out how they work, how to modify them and change them."

At this, Harry nodded.

"After Albus suggested the Fidelius, well, I looked into it. Took it apart, figured out its weaknesses. I also, well... figured out how to move the secret."

"Move the secret?"

"It's similar to both editing portkeys and withdrawing memories for a pensive, but it's possible."

"And you figured out how," said Harry.

At this, Lily nodded.

"Dumbledore wouldn't have known. We didn't even tell Sirius."

"So he might not have known."

"If we switched it, he wouldn't have," confirmed Lily.

At this, Harry nodded, and followed Lily downstairs. He sat, and listened to nearly the same explanation from Lily to Sirius and Remus, although Remus asked a few more technical questions that went over Harry's head.

Harry sat in silence, thinking about those question, and realizing that they had, indeed, gone over Harry's head. He'd learned that the other Harry had taken Ancient Runes and Care for Magical Creatures, and got good grades for nearly all of them. And here he was, leaving behind Divination. _Diviniation_.

"Harry, you alright?" asked Sirius.

"Just thinking about classes," said Harry.

"Not worried about them?"

"No," said Harry, ignoring Remus and Lily's conversation. "Just thinking about what I've taken."

"Took the easy stuff, eh?"

"Yeah. Realizing I shouldn't have, too."

"Why did you?"

"Because it's what Ron took, really. Then again, I don't think I'd have found Ancient runes very interesting. It's just ancient Celt and Norse, right?"

"Pretty much," said Sirius. "I had to take Ancient Runes back when I was in school. Pretty much the only thing I ever really gave in on."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I never really liked French back in primary school."

Sirius smiled at that.

"What about Arithmancy?" asked Sirius.

"Always seemed like a combination of Divination and Math to me. Divination was bad enough, with Trelawney constantly predicting my death."

"Oh, I don't know, we managed some impressive pranks with it," said Sirius. "You get the right numbers in the pranks, and you're more likely to succeed. Have the right numbers on your side, and you're less likely to fail."

On this, Harry was silent, thinking of Snape's worst memory, how angry Snape was with him, whether for viewing it, or for merely existing.

"What?" asked Sirius, seeing Harry's stoney face, uncomprehending. "What's wrong with pranks?"

"Just thinking about a prank you played on Snape," muttered Harry.

"And he probably deserved it," said Sirius.

"He deserved to be hung upside down, humiliated, and have his skivies shown off to the entire population of Hogwarts?" asked Harry. His voice was even, and Sirius knew he was in trouble. The Other Harry and Azalea had started paying attention.

"How did you know about that?" asked Sirius, trying to deflect.

At this, Harry glared, and then walked away.

Author's Note:

Also, I received an anonymous review that asked good questions, although I question whether or not the reviewer will read my response. **Jackdoc **asked two questions: first, why is Harry acting as though everyone is the same as they were before? Second, why is he so certain that he can't be sent back? To question one: If he read past chapter 3, he'd have his answer. Some people are the same, some people are very different. Why can't he go back? If he read the beginning of chapter 3, he'd have his answer from the Grand Poo-bah of magic himself, Dumbledore (he's pretty sure it's impossible, but he'll double-check anyways). Riddle, also, seemed to be of the opinion this was one-way, and Riddle isn't an idiot (contrary to Canon at times). Besides, were two-way dimensional travel possible, people would do it all the damn time, I think.


	13. Chapter 13: Of Animagery and Martyrs

**Chapter 13 – Of Animagery and Martyrs**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

"Regular post!" called Lily, as she stepped into the kitchen holding an envelope. "Alright, now which of you is the good Harry?"

"Obviously me," said the other Harry.

At this, Lily frowned, noting that Harry had not made any motions towards proclaiming his innocence, or even claiming the letter that was likely his.

"Well, seeing as it's from Rachel... I suspect _otherwise_," intoned Lily, and handed the letter to Harry. He examined it, somewhat confused, and blinked at the realization that this was his first-ever piece of muggle post. He opened it carefully.

Lily watched as he did this, and thought over how badly Sirius had acted yesterday. She knew he'd never really grown up, never really gotten over how badly his family treated him. His dislike and disrespect from Slytherins stemmed wholly from that.

Harry didn't entirely react to the letter, when he read it. He just stared at it thoughtfully, then looked at Lily.

"Rachel's birthday is the 8th of August, can I go?"

"Of course. Is she inviting anyone else?"

Harry double checked the letter.

"Seems like just Hermione, a few Ravenclaws, and a few Hufflepuffs. A few older students, but no one else."

"Of course. Do you want to use Archimedes?"

Harry opened his mouth, and then it seemed like he was punched in the gut.

"No," he finally said. "Do we have any stamps?"

At this, Lily nodded, dug through a few kitchen drawers, before handing him a stamp, along with a new envelope. He went off to his room, she assumed to retrieve parchment and quill.

"Why didn't she invite me?" asked her Harry.

"Are you her friend?" she asked.

"Well... no..." said her Harry.

"Then there you have your answer."

At this, her (she didn't like that it became less and less of a concern in her mind each time she appended "her", as though the other Harry wasn't a human, wasn't another child of Lily Potter) Harry fell silent, and watched as his twin returned with parchment and quill, quickly scribbling out a reply, folding it, and inserting it into an envelope, and handing it to Lily to put in the post box.

"So what are you going to get her?" asked her Harry.

"I'm not sure, yet," said Harry. "I'll probably mail or owl Hermione for a few ideas."

"Well, if you want any help, just ask," said her Harry.

"If I want to piss her off, I'll ask you, how about that?" said Harry back.

At this, her Harry smiled, as did Lily.

"Sounds good. Mum, is the animagus potion going to be finished today?"

"It is. It'll have finished distilling sometime after lunch, so that means you have plenty of time to finish your homework."

With a sigh, both Harries settled in to finish up their summer homework. They'd each been working on it off and on, under the premise that they'd have to do it eventually.

Lily returned to her lab, to check on how the potion was coming.

It was here, that she did a lot of her thinking. It was a mind-numbing process, counting off stirs, waiting for the exactly correct color, chopping and grinding and dicing the ingredients perfectly.

It was here, several days before, that she realized Harry reminded her of Severus. Not wholly, and certainly not the man today, but in small bits and pieces. It had taken the better part of a week, from when she'd first met Harry, to come to that conclusion while standing over a simmering cauldron.

He had the same watchful gaze, the same distant manner, the same selflessness that Severus had. The selflessness, she felt, was the worst part, for she knew what it stemmed from, and what it could result in.

The very literal, and very terrible, belief that his life meant nothing. That his life was less important than those around him. It was the reason, Lily knew, that Severus went, again and again, back into that mad-man's clutches. It was the reason, Lily knew, he was so willing to perform every despicable act, every unconscionable horror, every step over whatever moral event horizon he had originally possessed.

He believed, without question, that his own life was forfeit. That it meant nothing, compared to anyone else's.

And it'd only become worse when Lily had figured out why Severus had gone to Dumbledore.

He'd thrown himself into his work, thrown himself into the politics and friendship of Lucius Malfoy. Oh, certainly, she'd sent him the occasional letter, and received his sarcastic, biting reply. She could read between the lines, though. See the pain and misery he endured on a daily basis, not for his own sake, but for the sake of others.

She hoped and prayed that she could save Harry from Severus' fate, from the nigh-suicidal actions of a man who believed there was no help for him, and made sure to chase away anyone who tried.

Even (_no,_ she realized, _especially_) his best, and only friend.

0x0x0x0

They were in the back yard, as Remus suggested. He'd made mention of a random bust James' parents owned, that had James and Sirius blanch, and Lily narrowed her eyes. She smelled blackmail material, given James' rack.

James and Sirius had already shown the kids their own animagus forms, Prongs prancing about in the yard, while Padfoot easily keeping up with a joyous and deep bark. Harry, the other Harry, had stood back, keeping an eye on Padfoot. Perhaps Harry didn't hold a grudge like Severus did? Were they that lucky? Or was it, perhaps, for the very same reason Harry spoke with Voldemort? That he _couldn't_ hold a grudge, that it fell to the wayside, and he was more than willing to accept people back because of it?

Lily would take the potion first, then her Harry, then the other Harry. Azalea was off to the side, watching, and wanting to join in. James had, twice, made the same stipulation to her. She could take it after she'd gotten the right grades on her OWLs, EE in fifth year, or an O if she took them early. Lily was thankful of that much, at least, as she handed her wand to James.

The experience was... enlightening? Disturbing? Maybe just _strange_. The potion didn't cause a change. It just caused a hallucination or a vision that gave you an experience as the animal.

Thus, Lily found herself in some sort of glen, in a small furrow dug from the earth. Beside her were her children, suckling at her teats. They were pinching and pulling, her two cubs (Why where there two? Didn't she have three, now?), but she felt the love and warmth for them. The glen carried scents from the nearby valley gathered them and made it easier to find prey. It also let her know about predators.

She could smell something coming, something she didn't like, something she recognized.

She stood, pushing her cubs back, and quietly padded to the entrance of the glen. She could smell it. It was coming. She was patient. She could wait. She would wait. She huddled herself nearby, and began to wait.

And she did. The sun sank lower, the others not returned yet, that she first heard it, quietly moving through the edge of the glen. It sniffed the air, but she hadn't moved from her spot.

It stepped into her vision, and her mind filled in the colors, even as she failed to see them. Red. A fox, with a white tip to its tail. She lept from her hiding place, crashing into it, her jaws latching onto one of it's haunches even as it tried to jump away. There'd be no escape for it. She wouldn't allow it to leave, and attempt to come back. She wouldn't allow it to come anywhere near her cubs.

Her jaws cracked a bone, and she shock her head, feeling the leg dislocate. The fox barked and whined piteously, even as it tried to latch its own jaws onto her, but she released it, letting it try to limp away. It didn't try to run, and she didn't let it. It faced her, lowering itself defensively, baring it's teeth. She growled, ran forward, going for it's bad side, going for it's throat and the kill.

It bit at her, scratched at her, but in the end, she found it's throat, squeezed and shook, and she felt the bones rattle and break inside her jaw. It was dead. Her cubs were safe. She dropped the fox, and began tearing it open to feed her cubs.

Lily immediately vomited everything she'd eaten for lunch, including the mottled brown potion. It's color mixed with the puke a little to well, and then everything else in her stomach came up. James was already at her side, one hand at her back, the other holding her hair out of the way.

"That never happened to us," said Sirius.

"No, it happened to Peter a few times, when the animal got carried away and ate something he shouldn't have."

"Are you alright, Mum?" asked their Harry.

Lily nodded, spitting up the last drops of bile, before sitting and leaning back in James' arms.

"So what'd you see?"

"I'm pretty sure I was a wolf," said Lily. "I killed a fox to protect my cubs. Then I started eating it."

"Ah," said James, comforting her. She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "I puke up whatever grass I eat as Prongs. Sirius never does, but I think we all know he'll eat anything. Well, which of you wants to go first?"

Her Harry immediately stepped forward. He looked nervous, and looked as though he'd been waiting to step forward. Her Harry was surprised by this. She wondered if, maybe, her Harry was trying to show off, to prove that he could be just as brave as the other one. She sighed, wondering how right she was, as she watched her Harry drink the potion. He stood there, wavering, back and forth for a long moment, before falling flat on his face. As he sat up, he spat, and rubbed his skin for a moment, before smiling.

"Well?" asked James.

"Some sort of badger!" said Harry. "It broke into a some sort of huge horenet's nest, and ate.. um... um... I'm not sure _what_ it ate." He smiled. "And it got stung a whole bunch of times, but didn't even notice!"

"The Hufflepuff is a badger, eh?" asked Sirius, while James handed back Harry's wand.

The other Harry stood, glanced at the potion, and went bottoms up with barely a flinch. It spoke volumes, she felt, that he was raised in a muggle home, and still could do that. James and Sirius could do it with long practice, they were raised with potions to heal and cure. Harry drank them with ease, because he was injured so often.

He dropped the vial. It was charmed unbreakable, so it bounced a few times, rolling away. He stood, his eyes unfocused, and then immediately twisted away, his hand grabbing his scar. The hairs on her arms stood up, as she watched his entire body tense and seize, falling to the ground as he lost control. Was it the scar, again? Was it Voldemort torturing him again?

"Harry?" shouted Sirius.

Just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Except it wasn't. Even as she moved to comfort him, she saw his fists clench, and began beating the earth. She tried to take hold of him, but he just pushed her away, scrambling backwards.

She held back, unsure of just what to do, uncertain of how to help, how to comfort someone that didn't want to be held, didn't want to be hugged.

"Harry?" she began.

He was silent, his eyes unfocused, his knees pulled up to his chest. Was he still under the potion? He was rocking back and forth, his entire body silent, his breathing hitching in his throat, and then it was over. He was motionless for a long moment, then shuddered. He uncurled, and puked, everything coming up, the potion, his lunch, his dry heaves forcing him to spit out whatever bile could be summoned up.

He was taking labored breathes, sucking in air and then blasting it back out, forcing himself to breath, it felt like. Lily's hand reached out for his back, touching it, trying to comfort him, even as she realized she was making him more uncomfortable.

_He isn't used to being touched_, she had to remind herself. He didn't flinch away from contact it, it was more... he had no idea what to do about it. He didn't ease up when he felt another person's touch, but didn't flinch away from it. _He wasn't beaten_, Lily reminded herself, _but he doesn't know love._

"Are you alright?" she asked, even as he began to shake his head. She wasn't sure if he was replying to her, and his breathing was becoming more labored. She took her hand off his back, and just spoke.

"Harry? It's alright, we're here for you," she began. She spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, trying not to listen to his ragged breathing. The others tried to gather round him, hem him in, but Sirius pushed the others back.

"He's my son," growled James to Sirius.

"Then step back, and look at him," replied Sirius, watching as Lily talked to him. The entire family was silent, as they watched Lily try to comfort the other Harry. James didn't really think it was working.

"Would you like to head back to your room, for a bit?" asked Lily, finally.

Harry nodded, and they both stood, and went back into the house.

"What do you think happened, Dad?" asked his Harry.

"He got something he didn't like, I think," said Azalea. "And it might be related to his scar."

"That shouldn't matter," said Remus. "The animagus transformation is based on the soul. Your animal represents your major personality traits. It's why Sirius is a large, playful and stupid dog, and James is an arrogant and prideful deer." Remus ignored the other two men as they shouted their usual responses to Remus' description of them. Instead, he continued. "Since it's based on the soul, some mental connection to another person wouldn't affect anything."

"But what if your personality changes?" asked Azalea.

"It's like a patronus," said Sirius. "If something that bad happens, it can change, and you have to relearn everything. But it's also a conscious change. You have to recognize that the animal isn't who you are, anymore."

"What do you think it was?" asked Harry.

"I'm betting it was a snake," said Azalea. "He grabbed his scar when it happened."

"I don't know of any magic that could tie together two souls, and bad romance novels don't count," said James.

"This is Voldemort we're talking about, though," said Azalea. "If it was evil, do you think anybody sane would know about it?"

On this, the family fell silent.

0x0x0x0

Harry was curled up in his bed, staring at the wall. Lily was sitting on it, her hand on his side, not offering words of comfort. He flinched on occasion, but not because of her.

_Honestly, Potter, this is a _good _thing! It's a powerful form! An extremely powerful form!_

_ It's YOURS!_ He shouted back, his brow furrowing.

_Who cares? There hasn't been a magical animagus in centuries! The acclaim you could have because of it!_

_ Oh, yes, the acclaim! The acclaim of being able to turn into a murderous serpent whose only task is to kill, maim, and slaughter? This sounds like a _great_ idea. I'm not _you_, Tom._

Harry twitched at the sudden burst of pain, but ignored it behind his occulemancy.

_Do not call me that, boy, or I will make your life an eternal torment through this scar._

_ Fine! I just want to know how the hell I have a piece of _your soul_ in my body!_

_ What?_

_ Your _soul_, Riddle. That's what determines an Animagus form, the soul. I said it was your form, and I meant it. Maybe is the combination of both, but it doesn't matter-_

_ SHUT UP, POTTER._

On this, Harry fell silent, waiting for Riddle's response.

_Fuck. No wonder he never trained you,_ said Riddle, finally.

_ What?_

_ Dumbledore didn't want you to be a hero._

_ What? Why?_

_ He wanted a martyr._


	14. Chapter 14: Things Come Together

**Chapter 14 – Things Come Together**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

Suddenly, things made far more horrible sense to Lily, than they did before.

The sick sensation in her stomach came from the horror that Albus Dumbledore would perform, that remorse and guilt that she knew he'd feel, at what he felt needed to be done. That he would perform the actions, that he would carry the burden, and he would carry it alone, telling no one seemed to much like Dumbledore.

For the Greater Good, indeed.

She understood, now, why Harry so readily believed Dumbledore would sacrifice Sirius. She hadn't understood, at first. But now? She wouldn't bat an eyelash. That it was this other Dumbledore? It didn't matter to her, for how different were the two men? She hadn't interrogated Harry, but she'd spoken with him enough to build a picture of who he was, and how different he was from her own.

While she wouldn't call this other Harry shy, she realized that he didn't like dealing with people. He didn't like talking to people about their personal lives, he didn't like talking to them about schoolwork. In fact, she suspected he just didn't like talking in general, except... he did, in a single certain circumstance.

When he taught.

Her Harry couldn't explain a theory to save his life. This Harry could break it down into layman's terms so simple, even those two pieces of animated statuary that followed Malfoy around could understand them. He'd worked with Azalea on her homework, explaining to her theory, showing her how to perform the spellwork, slightly correcting her motions and grips. He was amazing at it, she found, and she wondered just how the hell that happened. How did the abused, introverted misfit work so well at teaching?

She knew her Harry was worried about him. Her Harry liked talking to people, liked finding out their stories, find out who they were, be friends with them. He was one of the most popular students in the school for a reason, afterall. This Harry didn't give a damn about talking to people, and instead just cared about how they acted. He didn't talk about himself much, if at all, and Lily only knew most of his history from when he'd poured his heart out to her on that strange, strange friday, when he realized just who she was. And once Harry, her Harry, had shown up, it'd stopped, like shutting off a faucet.

Was he jealous? Or did he really think himself "a spare."

She shuddered at what Azalea and Harry had told her about Cedric's death. The callousness, the sheer stupid randomness of the death. She didn't question whether or not it was real, she knew Harry could see the Thestrals. And now... now the Marauders would ride again.

Something seemed so wrong, that she was sitting down at her kitchen table, and she was sitting down for a council of war.

"It's called a Horcrux," began Harry. "It's... it's _evil_. They're made through murder, killing in cold blood. You rip off a piece of your soul, and stuff it in an object. It's the reason he didn't die that Halloween."

"Why is he telling you this?" asks Sirius.

"I asked him if he wanted me to test if this Voldemort could kill me. He agreed to tell me where each one was, and what defenses they have as he moved them in his world."

"Only a little paranoid," muttered James.

"He's a Dark Lord," commented Remus.

"Really?" asked Sirius, "I didn't know that. How did you learn this? Did he give you a brochure? Perhaps a pamphlet?"

Lily rolled her eyes, while Harry frowned.

"Can we get back on topic?" asked Harry. "We need to find out if Dumbledore destroyed the diary already, while he looks into the first one."

"What's the first one?"

"A locket, apparently. He'll tell me once he's-" Harry cut off, suddenly, his hand gripping his forehead as blood began to ooze down it.

0x0x0x0

Hermione paced her cell. She liked to think of it as a cell, at least. In reality, it was the same bedroom she'd spent the last week and a half in. She was still feeling weak from her injuries, but Tom had cleared her from angry pacing.

"Anything beyond that," he had warned, "and whatever injuries you give yourself will be the _least_ of your concerns."

She had to admit, he was a Dark Lord for a reason.

So she paced, wondering how she could get a message to someone, anyone. Even if it was her parents. Even it was the Weasleys. McGonagall would be best, she felt. But the messenger would have to get through the wards. She was sure she wasn't at Malfoy Manor, but someplace else, but who or what could find her...

It took all of Hermione's will not to smack her own forehead. She quickly wrote out the note, before putting her plan into action.

"Dobby," she whispered.

There was a groan, and then the quietest pop she'd ever heard. And there, Dobby was standing, slightly singed, but otherwise uninjured.

"Master Potter's Grangy," whispered Dobby. "We's being very quiet. They's listening."

"I know. Can you pop me away?"

Dobby shock his head.

"Dark Lord's magic. Very tight space, just for Dobby to pop through. Not enough space for Grangy."

Hermione nodded, and handed Dobby the note.

"Take it to Remus."

Dobby nodded, hugged her leg, and disappeared.

0x0x0x0

"_Regulus,_" growled Riddle as he stared down at the note. It began to blacken, and then burst into flames in his hands. He glanced at the elf, and his mind put together just how the locket was stolen.

We waved his wand in the general direction of the elf, and ignored it as the half-dead and now mostly insane creature burst into light-drinking flames. Within seconds, not even ash was left. Riddle walked down the stone island, stepping onto the blood-red ice surrounding it. He ignored everything else as he stalked out of the cave. He stopped at it's edge, deciding it would be best to let the cave remain a trap. He'd been stupid in selecting these locations, now that he thought of it. Simple, although ingenious, traps would not deter Dumbledore. He waved his wand, the sheet of red ice melting back into blood, and the entire lake transfigured into icy blue water.

The water couldn't be frozen, because the transfiguration dictated it couldn't. The spell blended in with the rest of the magic in the cave. The boat, Riddle felt, was little more than a fun diversion, and led straight into the trap.

He stepped out into the ocean surf, and disappeared with a bang. He was far too angry to be calm about it, and take his time. Instead, he appeared at his manor.

_Lord Fuckwit the Fabulous!_ shouted Potter. That stopped Riddle in his tracks. He thought a moment, and realized Potter had been calling him increasingly insulting monikers for the last ten minutes.

_What, Potter?_

_ Whose Regulus?_

_Your nitwit of a Godfather's traitorous dead brother,_ ground back Riddle. _He managed a bit more than just betraying me._

_He stole the locket?_

On this, Riddle remained silent, but the silence was enough to answer Harry.

_Are you moving on one of the others?_

_ No. Ask the mutt if Regulus died by my hand, and determine where the locket is. I imagine Sirius might know his hiding places... _Riddle trailed off for a moment. _And check their house-elf. It might know, if it didn't die._

_ Right._

0x0x0x0

"What's the word?"

"Lord Fuckwit the Fabulous-"

"Fuckwit the Fabulous?" asked Sirius.

"It's what he responded to, at least," said Harry. "Lord Fuckwit asks if Regulus was killed by Voldemort."

"Yes, of course," said Sirius.

"Then the Locket was stolen by your brother."

"By... what?" said Sirius, his jaw slackening.

"Regulus stole the locket. He had a change of heart, apparently. He's asking us to find it on this side, apparently."

"What?" said Sirius again.

"Where do you think we should start?" asked Harry, while James moved behind Sirius, his hand on Sirius' back to steady him.

"Regulus... Regulus betrayed the Dark Lord?"

"According to Riddle himself," said Harry. "I didn't read the note, but, well... he taunted Riddle. That much I got from his ranting and grumbling."

Sirius sat there, and stared at the table for several long minutes. James was at his back

"We're going to Grimmauld," said Sirius, finally.

"Alright," said James.

"No. Me and Harry."

James and Remus looked at him, confused.

"It's a godfather thing," said Sirius.

Harry blinked, then nodded.

"And we're leaving now. The faster this is done with, the faster Lord Fuckwit the Fabulous dies."

0x0x0x0

Remus took a few minutes to recognize the now singed, whimpering house-elf.

"Dobby?" his voice cracked as he spoke.

"A note from Mister Potter's Grangey," said Dobby, holding the parchment. He looked about, and then snapped his fingers, vanishing the numerous bottles surrounding. "But not before Mister Lupin cleans hisself up."

Lupin sighed, pulling himself up, and began to drag himself to the shower. It took him twenty minutes to clean himself up enough to feel as human as he ever did, and another twenty after that to remember that Hermione Granger had been kidnapped by the Dark Lord himself.

0x0x0x0

Harry and Sirius stepped into 12 Grimmauld Place. It reminded Harry of the dark and ugly house, but he quickly realized that Molly and Sirius had managed to clean up the original house. The sense of desolation and decay that wafted through the building (Harry now hesitated at calling it a house) made his hair stand on end, and he barely realized he'd taken his wand out. The pair of them were silent as they entered, and quietly snuck past the the curtains silencing the portrait of Sirus' mother.

Harry shuddered at the long row of house-elf-heads, and thought of the house-elf that lived here, Kreacher, as they entered the upstairs hallway.

"Sirius," came a haughty, regal voice. Both men turned, wands out, pointed at a portrait hanging on the wall. She was beautiful, that much Harry was certain. Her voice matched her face and clothing, haughty and regal. Piercing violet eyes were set above high cheekbones, and some strange twinge of recognition hit Harry, even as he stared at her. From where did he know her?

"Bellatrix," said Sirius, assuming the same regal tone. He lowered his wand. The name struck a cord with Harry. Riddle had called to her, before... before.

"Finally come back?" she asked. "Come to take your place amongst your family?"

"No," replied Sirius. "We're here to destroy your favorite person in all the world, the Dark Lord."

At this, Bellatrix said nothing.

"It's nice to know you're trapped here. I'm sure you have plenty of pleasant company. Now, if you excuse us."

They entered the tapestry room, which appeared to be the only clean room in the entire house.

"Why didn't you just burn this place down?" asked Harry.

"Can't. The wards are locked down so much, not even the owner of the house can affect them. And these wards are old, and getting meaner with age. Grimmauld's a veritable fortress, magically. If I tried to damage this hellhole, even as its master, it'd murder me."

Harry had to think about that for a moment.

"Why?"

"Dad was going around the twist in his old age. He didn't want to be imperioused to bring down the wards."

Sirius glanced at the tapestry.

"Speaking of family... the Great, Solemn, and Terrible history of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Seen it before?"

"I have. Sirius, er- my Sirius, mentioned every blackened name he could remember on here," said Harry, trailing off. He looked at the blackened spots for Sirius and Andromeda. On this, Sirius was silent for a moment, before he spoke again.

"I'll take a look around for the locket. You wait here, alright?"

"Right," said Harry, not having any problem with staying in this room. He recalled his own conversation with his Sirius, as this Sirius stepped out. His eyes caught on something odd about the tapestry.

Bellatrix Lestrange had the same double line of marriage to Rudolphus LeStrange, but there was a single segmented line to Tom Marvolo Riddle. Below that were two words.

_One daughter._

Harry recalled the painting of Bellatrix outside, with her piercing violet eyes, and thought of a young Tom Marvolo Riddle, and his curly black hair. His brain made a connection that he rather wished it hadn't. He stepped out of the Tapestry room.

"Sirius?" he called. Silence. He turned to the portrait of Bellatrix, and looked up at her, examining her face.

"You are a Potter, correct? That imbecile James' son?

"Harry."

"I don't care for your name, whelp. Is there something I can help you with, mudblood?" said Bellatrix, her face filled with disdain.

Harry stared up at her, connecting the mental dots. Riddle had called her his most trusted advisor. His right hand. She died with Riddle, that fated night. They had a daughter. A daughter that was likely born as the seventh month dies.

Harry swallowed with trepidation.

"I know I am beautiful, halfbreed, but you shall never have me," she added.

"No… but I know your daughter."

On this, Bellatrix was silent.

"He asked you to step aside, didn't he?" asked Harry

Bellatrix's eyes widened in surprise, so Harry continued.

"And you refused. You wouldn't let him kill her. Not unless he killed you first."

Bellatrix actually trembled in her portrait. She closed her eyes, and took a calming breath.

"Anything you can tell me, anything you can tell me that I can tell her, to help us kill him. Anything at all. Please."

"In my vault," said Bellatrix. "There's a cup in my vault. He entrusted it to me. It belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. The vault was left to her. It should be in her name, at this point."

"What's her name?"

"Her name? You don't know?"

"No, and neither does she. As far as she knows, she's an orphaned muggleborn."

Bellatrix stiffly nodded.

"Have the worthless mutt adopt her, then. Declare her a member of the family, so that she can't be stolen out from under you. My husband or his brother would do it in a heartbeat, and then murder her for their amusement. Or Cissa might, as well."

"And her name?"

"I will tell her her name directly, halfblood," said Bellatrix.

"Fine. But promise me you won't insult her."

"What?"

"Promise me you won't insult her. Promise me you won't look down on her for being raised as a muggle."

On this, Bellatrix was quiet.

"I'm sorry I'm saying this, but she's a nice girl, and I don't want you hurting her."

"You care for her?"

"Like I said, she's a nice girl."

Harry felt like he could see the wheels turning in her head.

"Harry, I thought I told you stay in the tapestry room."

"You have a deal, you ungrateful brat. At least tell me you are in Slytherin."

"Gryffindor, actually, although the hat tried otherwise."

At this, Bellatrix smirked as Harry unstuck and shrank her portrait, slipping it into a pocket.

"Why are you taking her?"

"I found Rachel's birthday present," said Harry.

**Author's Notes:**And we finally arrive at Rachel's origins. We still need to answer the question of how Bellatrix defied Voldemort, and how Rachel will accept just who her parents are, but that's for the next chapter... I think. As I'm writing this, I've just posted chapter 13. So I've got no idea, either. But I do know how Bellatrix defied Voldemort. Trust me, it's terrible. Horrifying, even. For Harry, at least. Everyone else (if he tells anyone else) will just laugh at him.

But yeah. A portrait of Bellatrix Lestrange. How's that for a birthday present? Hopefully she won't turn out to be as bad as Walpurga.

A question for the readers (and a subtle request for reviews, the lifeblood of fanfic authors) – What are some good Marauder names for Tall Harry? After all, this was the entire reason Harry and Harry are learning to be Animagi. I've already got one for our Harry, and although he'll hate it, he'll accept it... eventually. And to answer no-one's question, Harry is, in fact, a Honey Badger. I couldn't help it. He's a Puff.


	15. Chapter 15: Rex, Sunstripe, and Frostfur

**Chapter 15 – Rex, Sunstripe, and Frostfur**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

"So what is your animagus form?" asked Sirius, as they stepped out of Grimmauld Place.

"Basilisk," said Harry.

Sirius stopped and blinked at that.

"Really?" he asked. "That's... kind of impressive?"

"It's a monster," replied Harry. "Not a beast, not a creature, a monster. It's only thoughts are to kill, murder, and eat."

"Are you sure?" asked Sirius. "I mean, a snake that ruddy big..."

"Sirius... I'm a parseltongue because of this scar. I've listened to one of them."

On this, Sirius fell silent. How many people knew? Did he even tell Lily and James? Could he even ask them?

"It was mad. Utterly, utterly mad. The things are evil. Monstrous, hateful, retched, and evil. They exist solely to murder, and kill, and slaughter. Salazar Slytherin hid the damn thing under the school to kill all the muggleborn, dammit. Hell, Voldemort thinks the damn thing is a _good thing_. Explain to me how anything _Voldemort_ sees as a _good thing_ is a _good idea_."

He didn't have a response to that, so he remained quiet. He looked down at the locket in his hand, then back up at Harry.

"Let's get back, shall we, Rex?"

Harry nodded, then stopped.

"Rex?" asked Harry.

"You're the King of Serpents, aren't you?"

Harry's eyebrow twitched.

"I know it's the Dark Lord's fault, Harry, but for once, unfortunately, the fuckwit's right. It's a powerful form. Yeah, it's not the greatest of forms, but it's still something that you can use. You don't have to be the thing beneath the school, and you don't have to murder all the muggleborns, Harry. You're you. Being an animagus doesn't change that. Have you ever seen McGonagall hack up any hairballs?"

Harry stared, slack-jawed, at Sirius' question.

"Never, right? That's because the animagus form doesn't control you. It's a part of you, I mean, I was more playful after becoming Padfoot, but it's not who I am. I'm still Sirius Orion Black, Black Sheep of the Black Family. You've got power. Huge gobs of it, if that patronus of yours is any indication. Like it or not, that's true. I think it was Lily who was always grumbling something about great power and great responsibility back in third year. But that means you can use it to help people. And that's something you've been doing. So this thing, Rex, is just one more way. One more power to be responsible for, and one more to help people with."

At this, Harry was quiet for a long time, staring at the park across from Grimmauld Place.

"I just want to be normal," he finally said, sitting down on the stoop of Number 12.

"I know," said Sirius, taking a seat next to him. "You'd rather by Ernie or Justin, growing up all normal with your parents and a sibling or two. Honestly, I think everyone wants to grow up normal. I wanted parents like James', Remus wanted to walk down the street without being spit on, Lily wanted her sister to not be a horrid bitch, and James... well... James... he wasn't ever entirely whole after his parents passed on."

"What happened?"

"James was a happy accident," said Sirius. "Spoiled him a fair amont, really. His parents weren't expecting him. And when they passed on during sixth year, well... Let's just say he changed. A lot."

Harry nodded, recalling Snape's memories of James in fifth year, while Sirius stared across the street.

"When his parents died, he really did become a different person. A better person, I think. He really buckled down, and focused on being a Potter, rather than just James. Which, really, was when Lily noticed him." At this, Sirius sighed, looking down at his feet.

"What about you?" asked Harry.

"What about me?"

"There any girls in your life?"

"Not really," said Sirius, quickly. "I'm not really the marrying type."

At this, Harry nodded.

"Maybe you'll settle down with someone."

"Lily seems to think so," said Sirius. "I doubt it, though."

At this, Harry stared back out at the park, his eyes unfocused.

"Harry?" asked Sirius. "You there, mate?"

0x0x0x0

"Madam Longbottom, I thank you for allowing me into your home."

Augusta Longbottom glared at the tall, and now somewhat handsome man before her. She glared down her nose at him, making note of his still short hair, and still returning nose.

"This had best be worth it, Mister Riddle," ground out Madam Longbottom. She glanced past him, and made note of the bushy-haired girl behind him.

"You would be Miss Granger, I presume?" asked Madam Longbottom.

"Yes, Madam Longbottom."

"How did my grandson die?" she asked, her glare increasing tenfold.

Hermione stared at her for a long moment.

"Err- On his feet, with his wand in his hand and a curse on his lips, Madam Longbottom," said Hermione. "I wish I had joined him, but unfortunately, this monster didn't let me."

"And why did she not?" asked the ever dour Madam Longbottom.

"At the tender age of sixteen, through feats of power and skill, she managed to survive a full minute against me," said Riddle. "Mind you, I held back from using the unforgivables, but I would grant anyone such a second chance."

At this, Madam Longbottom nodded curtly, and lead them from the entrance hall into a side parlor. All three of them took their seats, although Madam Longbottom recognized just how many glares the Granger girl was sending at Riddle.

A tea service was brought before them by an elf, and Madam Longbottom glared at the pair of them.

"Now, just what is it that you have to offer me, and what is it that you want?"

Riddle reached into his robes, and retrieved a vial containing a bright blue potion, and placed it on the table between them.

"You know what potion that is, Madam Longbottom. It was made from the blood I myself collected from young Neville, and was brewed by Severus Snape at my command. Miss Granger knew young Neville, and it would not be to surprising for two young teens to have a last hurrah before going into battle against me."

Madam Longbottom stared at the vial, then looked at Miss Granger. She was staring at the vial with a mixture of surprise and horror.

"Do you know what this is?" asked Madam Longbottom.

"Illegal," replied Hermione. "I don't know the name of it, no, but I understand what it does. You-" she looked at Riddle. "You want me to bear Neville's son?"

"Correct, Miss Granger. In return, you will be released to Madam Longbottom's care, although I expect an oath that you will stay in her care. Whether or not you have visitors besides myself is up to Madam Longbottom."

Madam Longbottom stared at the potion for a long moment.

"And what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"You are on the Hogwarts Board of Governors," said Riddle. "I wish for the institution of a Wizarding Traditions class for muggleborn students. Possibly halfbloods, as well."

"Wizarding... you mean some sort of indoctrination class?" asked Hermione.

"Perhaps. At the very least, a course that explains how the Wizarding World works, and how they'll be expected to keep it secret. I was planning on leaving it up to you and Madam Longbottom."

On this, Madam Longbottom and Hermione had no response, allowing Riddle to continue.

"I imagine between the two of you, the smartest witch of her generation, and the ever dour and composed Madam Augusta Longbottom, you can determine the appropriate material for the course."

"Only if I can update the Muggle Studies course," said Hermione.

Riddle and Longbottom stared at her.

"What? I need to get _something_ out of this, and I've had to sit through two years of it. I swear, it hasn't been updated since _Dumbledore_ was in school. They don't even mention World War I, let alone any of the advancements in the last century. Also, what about my own studies?"

"I can provide tutors if you do not wish to attend classes," said Madame Longbottom. "I understand you may not yet be ready to do so, Miss Granger."

"I'll consider it," she said, reaching forward for the vial.

"Not yet, Miss Grange," said Riddle. "I know you're eager to be out of my lair, but vows and oaths first, potion second."

0x0x0x0

Harry shook his head, as he came out of it. He realized he was in the Potter kitchen, surrounded by Sirius, James, and Lily.

"Harry, you alright?" asked Sirius.

"Yeah, sorry. Weird vision from Riddle."

"What sort?" asked Lily. "Your scar doesn't look inflamed."

"He's up to something. He's got Hermione at Madam Longbottom's, and he had a vial of a bright blue potion, I think it's an illegal pregnancy potion-"

"He's making Hermione bare Neville's illegal potion kid?" asked Sirius.

"Er- Not so much making, as offering so that Hermione isn't trapped at Riddle's lair."

Lily and James looked at each other.

"And she agreed?" they replied.

"Which would you prefer? Be near Riddle, or pregnant with Augusta Longbottom? She also gets to plan a Wizarding Traditions course, and a new Muggle Studies course."

The Marauders (and wife) all stared at each other at this revelation, before pumping Harry for the rest of the details of the conversation.

"So he didn't mention to you any of the other Horcruxes?"

"No, but I didn't say we'd found it yet," said Harry. "I've got a few other questions for him, I'll ask him tonight, alright?"

"This related to Bellatrix's portrait?"

Harry nodded.

"And why are you giving that to Rachel?"

"It's a surprise?" said Harry.

"Why would a portrait of my cousin be a good birthday present?" asked Sirius.

"Because it's a surprise?" replied Harry, not giving any ground in the slightest.

Sirius eyed him carefuly.

"Very sneaky, Rex. Very sneaky. Almost... Slytherin of you."

Harry rolled his eyes again at the nickname, while James was first to ask.

"Rex?" asked Lily.

"Basilisk," said Harry.

"Like in the chamber?"

Harry nodded.

Lily reached out and took him into a hug. This time, Harry took a moment to actually reach around Lily and hug her as well.

"Hey Remus! Get the kids and get in here!"

They were quickly joined by Remus, Harry, and Azalea.

"Alright, so one of you is down. Everyone, I would like to welcome Rex to Marauder-dom."

"Rex?" asked Azalea.

"Hail to the King, baby!" said Sirius.

"I never should have let him watch that movie," muttered Lily.

"Now, we have two people who need names," began James. "First and foremost, is the young Mister Harry James Potter, and Second is Less-so-but-still-Young Mrs Lily Marie Potter nee Evans. We begin with Mister Potter. Mister Potter, you have determined your form?"

"Careful research-" at which point Azalea made a cough that sounded suspiciously like "my research" - "has revealed that I am likely a _Mellivora capensis_, a species of badger that lives largely in Africa, the Middle East, and the Indian Sub-continent. It is more commonly referred as the Ratel there."

"It's also more related to the weasel than other badgers," added Azalea, smiling all the while. "So, really, why's Rex Rex?"

"Because he's the King," replied Sirius with an absolutely terrible Elvis impersonation. "So, we've got the badger in Hufflepuff, eh? We've got Helga... what about _Olga_?"

"No. Something manly. Something Hufflepuff related," said James.

"Sweetpuff?" asked Remus.

"Gah!" cried Sirius in disgust. His face immediately lit up.

"I said _manly_, Remus," said James, before Sirius could shout whatever idiocy came into his brain.

"Puffenstein!"

Both Harries looked at each other like all the adults were crazy. Azalea merely sniffed in disdain.

"I guess they can't all be winners," said Sirius. "Right Rex?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're just calling me that because it's a dog's name."

"That is, also, the appropriate cover for it. But again, it comes back to that whole power/responsibility thing. Kings need to be responsible, or they get overthrown. Now, quit trying to save your brother form his personal embaressment. You're his sister. You should be encouraging us."

"Fine. Winnie the Pooh," said Azalea.

All three Marauders began nodding and conferring amongst themselves, making affirmative noises.

"No way in hell!" said Harry.

"They're not serious," said Rex.

"No, only Sirius is serious, but still! No! No way! No how!"

"Fine, ruin our fun," grumbled Sirius.

"Sunstripe," said Lily, finally joining the conversation.

"What?" asked James.

"Sunstripe. Badgers are striped. I'm assuming a honey badger has a yellow coloring. Sunstripe."

Azalea sat there, dumbfounded.

"You wand is even made of hornbeam. It makes perfect sense," she continued.

Now everyone was glancing at each other, confused.

"Don't argue," said Lily, pointing her finger at the Marauders. "I'm a woman, therefore I'm right."

"It's a good name," determines Remus.

"Not sure about the hornbeam bit, but I'm not arguing with it," said James.

Sirius looked at his two compatriots, nodded, and returned, once more, to his imperious tone.

"It is the decision of the three Senior Marauders in Good Standing, that the Young Mister Harry James Potter be henceforth named Mister Sunstripe."

Sunstripe beamed, while Rex smirked.

"Now, the formal induction ceremony will occur once you have successfully managed to change your form. Should you choose to as well, Mister Rex, you will be inducted as well. We accepted a werewolf, we'll accept you no matter what."

"I'll think about it."

"Acceptable. Now, we move on to the naming of our final inductee. Mister Prongs, you have the floor."

"Thank you, Mister Padfoot. Our final inductee is one Mrs Lily Marie Potter. If you would state your form?"

Lily rolled her eyes, but rolled with the idiocy of her husband with long practice.

"Thank you, Mister Prongs. Careful examination has revealed my form to be _Canis Lupus_, or the Grey Wolf. I would like to state for the record, that the first of you three to combine anything involving wolves and latin are getting your _colei_ cut off and shoved up your _culus_, is that understood?"

All three marauders nodded quickly, Azalea snorted in amusement, while the Harries were confused.

"Well... this makes things difficult," said Sirius.

"You all had names planned on that, didn't you?" asked Remus.

"I didn't," replied James. He sent a pointed look at Sirius.

"What? She's a wolf. Remus, Lupin, and Mooney are already taken. I'm not going to suggest Romulus. What does that leave us with? Latin! What are we banned from using? Latin! So what am I supposed to suggest, here? Wolfmother?" At this point, Sirius seemed to actually consider it.

James gave him a long, hard look, before turning to Remus.

"Do you have a suggestion, Mister Mooney?"

"Mister Mooney does, Mister Prongs. Mister Mooney suggest Frigga, wife of Woden, Lord of the Wild Hunt?"

"Mister Mooney, Mister Padfoot would like to remind you that invoking the Wild Hunt invites naught but trouble."

"Mister Mooney admits a certain amount of truth in Mister Padfoot's statement," said a cringing Remus. "But Mister Mooney would like to remind Mister Padfoot that the Hunstman does have a sense of humor."

"Mister Prongs would like to remind Mister Mooney that he nearly had his damn head chopped off, and that he still has a scar on his rump from that night," growled out James.

"So that's where that's from!" said a now laughing Lily, while everyone else looked amused.

"Mister Mooney concedes to his fellow Marauders fair points," grumbled Remus.

"Does the ever-laughing Mrs Potter have a suggestion? Or the newly-minted Misters Sunstripe or Rex?"

"Um... am I allowed?" asked Azalea.

"Of course!" said James. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"Just that I'm underage for all of this."

"Technically, your brothers are also underage for all of this," said Sirius. "You aren't supposed to complete the transformation until you've completed your Transfiguration NEWT, but that's mostly because it's assumed wizards are stupid, and will try this on their own. Now, what's your suggestion?"

"Err... You said you were a grey wolf, right? So, um, Frostfur," said Azalea.

The three marauders looked at each other, and began another silent conversation over the name.

A different silent conversation passed between mother and daughter, and at the end of it, they both smiled at each other.

"I think that means you have to name Azalea," whispered Rex to Sunstripe.

"Right," said Sunstripe.

0x0x0x0

The Dark Lord Voldemort paced on the raised stage, as a not-quite-cowering Draco Malfoy delivered his report on the school.

Draco Malfoy.

The name itself left a bad taste in his mouth. The fact, alone, that Lucius had spawned detested Voldemort, but such was the way of things.

"There's also a second Harry Potter," added Malfoy, feeling he was almost done.

"A _second_ Potter?" asked Voldemort, recalling who else that prophecy could have detailed. A pity he hadn't managed to get it. He'd hoped since his acronym was on it, he could remove, but no. It required his _true_ name.

"Yes," whimpered Draco, realizing that Voldemort's ire was now direct at him.

"What do you know of him?" asked Voldemort.

"He... he is powerful, My Lord. And a fighter. I dueled him, and he won, while the true Harry Potter could not face me due to his embarassment."

On this, Voldemort was silent. The Potter brat wasn't that powerful, Voldemort felt. Granted, Malfoy wasn't either, but he was biased. That this new Potter brat was here, and that he'd defeated Malfoy...

"Why is he here?"

"Dumbledore claims he was ejected from his old reality."

"By who?"

"He didn't say," said Malfoy.

On this, Voldemort was silent. Gears in his head ground together. What if he and Bellatrix never had a daughter? He would have gone for either the Potter or Longbottom spawn. Suddenly, Wormtail's demise began to make far more sense.

The newest Potter brat knew Wormtail was a traitor, because he'd already been found out. The boy had survived, just as his own daughter survived. Why, then, had he been ejected from his reality?

Severus might know. But asking may force Severus' hand towards Albus.

He supposed he could attack some mudbloods and torture it out of them, but which mudbloods would he attack?

He almost wanted to smack himself upside the head when he came to the simplest conclusion.

If he wanted to learn about the Potters, obviously, he should question the Potters.

**Author's Notes:** DUN-DUN-DUUUUUUUUUUN. Hooray, Cliffhanger! And big thanks to _m-f42_, _ian904_, and _Still Not Dead Yet_ for their suggestions and recommendations as to Tall Harry's marauder name. I'm afraid ian904 did win out, and it was a bit of fun to dig through wikipedia articles to line up the dates on what books Lily could have read. Sunstripe (originally Sunflash the Mace) appears in both _Mossflower_ and _Outcast of Redwall_, by Brian Jacques. They are good YA literature, and I'd recommend reading them in the order they were published, starting with _Redwall _itself. I'd re-read those books myself, but I've passed on a fair supply to my (now ten year old) niece. I'll now have to remember that Sunstripe's wand is made of Hornbeam, as well. I suspect his core is dragon heartstring, likely a welsh green, although possibly a hebridean black.

I'd considered using the North American red wolf (_canis rufus_) for Lily, but decided it wouldn't work since it's considered a hybrid of coyotes and grey wolves. Oh, how I wish Wolfmother were a slightly older band. I play the timeline by the Potter Lexicon, so that pegs the year at 1996, and it'd be appropriate to have something related to them be for Lily. Frostfur is another character of a YA series, specifically the wonderful Tamora Pierce's Tortall books. **READ THEM.**

As to Lily's threat, I'm again likely using bad Latin, but the jist of it is simple. _Lupa_, or she-wolf, is slang for prostitute. Lily basically warns the marauders that whoever makes the first hooker joke gets his balls cut off and shoved up their ass.

I'd also like throw a massive shout-out to the Dropbox service, because my primary laptop keeps crapping itself. I've had to get a new power cord, and now I've had to replace the power connector inside the laptop itself, and it's getting kind of annoying. I use Dropbox to backup all my writing, so that means I don't lose anything, and can pick up work on any computer with an internet connection.

Reviews, critiques, and criticism are always welcome.


	16. Chapter 16: Psychological Scarring

**Chapter 16 – Psychological Scarring**

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own any of this. In case someone thought I did. Cause that'd be real believable, you know?

0x0x0x0

**A Warning:** This fic was rated M for a reason. One of those reasons is in this very chapter. Oh, yes. I had that reasoning written down for a _long_ damn time.

0x0x0x0

"So... Hermione and Neville?" asked Harry.

Riddle made a noise. He was seated once more in Vernon's recliner, and staring down an empty Diagon Alley. The lever was pulled, and his feet were propped up.

Harry was inspecting signage for the apothecary, trying to recall if any of it was actually right.

"Politics always leaves a bad taste in my mouth," said Riddle, finally. "It's the reason I have Lucius do it, really."

"Lucius seems the type. He oozes slime. Not as much as Snape, but... still."

Riddle made another noise, still staring down the alley. There was a shift and a change down the alley, and Harry watched as a near-empty property shifted and distorted, the most garish orange and multi-colored paint revealing itself from beneath the faded brickwork. A massive sign, a rainbow of collars and a myraid of shapes appear at it's head, proclaiming itself with a neon and light WWW.

"They built it?" asked Harry, surprised.

"Indeed they have. I haven't taken the time to stop in there. Would you like me to?"

"Honestly? I think they'd probably try to kill you."

"True. It might amuse me, but I'd rather not destroy their family more than I already have."

"Reigning in your psychopathy?"

"Something like that. The locket?"

"Was in headquarters," said Harry. "I can't name it more than that, but you're intelligent enough to figure it out."

"I suspected," said Riddle. He stood, and Diagon Alley fell away, revealing the graveyard. He was somewhat impressed that Harry's features merely hardened at it's sight. "Follow."

They walked in silence. They crested a hill, crossed through the town center, and they stopped near an ugly, twisted shrub at the entrance to a sallow field. In the center of it was a dilapidated shack.

"You know the way?" asked Riddle, motioning back the way they came.

Harry nodded.

"Excellent. _Let us pass_," said Riddle.

The ground itself seemed to boil, as hundreds, if not thousands, of skeletal snakes rose out of the ground. A meandering path of bare grass was left through the field. Harry didn't need to be informed to stay on the path, and did so without any trouble. The path itself moved and shifted as the skeletal snakes moved. They reached the door, and Riddle stopped. He retrieved a knife, and pricked his finger, touching it to the skeleton of another snake on the door. The door swung open, but Riddle did not step inside. Instead, he retrieved his wand.

Harry paid attention to the slow swirl of movements, and tried to memorize the incantation, but it wasn't in any language he recognized.

"Egyptian," said Riddle. "To disable Cleopatra's Curse. The curse is old, specific, and somewhat common, but it's difficult to recognize amongst this killing field, exceedingly painful, and just as lethal."

Harry nodded, and followed Riddle inside. He watched as Riddle retrieved a muggle hammer from within his robes, and pried up a loose floorboard. He then cast, and held, a flame spell on the box under the floorboard for five minutes.

"Sterilization, Mister Potter. Do not remove the box until you've done so. There's a contact poison on the Horcrux itself. It becomes airborne with moderate heat. Like many organic compounds, it breaks down in high heat."

"Can I destroy it right there?" asked Harry.

"If you wish to die, certainly," replied Riddle. Riddle reached down with a now gloved hand, and retrieved the box. The exited the shack, and Riddle turned.

"_Wingardium Leviosa,_" whispered Riddle, his wand giving the gentle swish and flick. Harry watched one of the floorboards twitch, and then the entire cottage was encased in a block of ice. Behind them, he could hear movement, and watched as the multitude of snake skeletons rushed together and formed a vast, skeletal serpent, it's eyes blazing with elderitch fire.

"I have something of a flair for the dramatic," commented Riddle.

"I hadn't realized," replied Harry. "I mean, you only resurrected yourself in a graveyard. I distinctly recall a few villainous monologues, as well."

"One must always pay homage to the classics, Potter. As you might imagine, I used the muggle hammer for a reason. Did you have any questions?"

"What's the Horcrux itself?"

Riddle opened the box, revealing a gold ring with simple black stone.

"The Gaunt family ring. This was their home, before I killed them. The Gaunts were my Wizarding Family, and direct descendants of Salazaar Slytherin. They were also exceedingly inbred. Three people lived in this shack, and yet my mother lived with her father, two brothers, and an uncle."

Harry nodded, but allowed the revulsion to show on his face.

Riddle snapped the box shut, and the field, the block of ice, and the skeletal serpent faded away, to be replaced by the park outside of a far more dilapidated Grimauld Place. He took a seat in a nearby bench, staring at the house.

"Thinking of your Godfather?" asked Riddle.

"Bellatrix, actually."

On this, Riddle fell silent, and stared up at the front of the building. He took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. He looked back at Harry, who was still staring house.

"You have the next location, Potter. Good luck, and happy hunting."

Harry nodded, and the world around them began to melt away.

"Oh, and Riddle?"

"Yes?" asked Riddle, the park around them halted mid-melt. It reminded Harry of a weird painting of melting clocks.

"Tell Hermione... tell her the force be with you."

Riddle raised an eyebrow at Harry for a moment, and then nodded.

0x0x0x0

Lily came downstairs to see Harry already through most of breakfast.

"Bad night?"

"Weird night," said Harry, thinking for a moment as he placed pancakes on a plate. "I've got the next location, and how to get to it. It's a ring of some sort. I've got to be there to get it."

"Why?"

"Because there's parseltongue passwords," replied Harry. "That, and I don't want you and James to forget any of the instructions."

Lily frowned at James' name, but decided to save that conversation for a later date. Again. She stopped at the mention of parseltongue, but recalled he mentioned it back in the infirmary. How it slipped her mind... she dropped it, though. It wasn't important. It could be dealt with later, as well.

"Alright. Harry... was there anyone you wanted to visit over the summer?"

At this, Harry actually stopped what he was doing for an instant, before continuing as though nothing had happened, but he didn't speak for a long moment.

"No," he said, finally.

"Are you just saying that? Or do you really mean it?" asked Lily.

"I... it'd be nice, I guess."

Lily pursed her lips for a moment.

"Harry... I want you to understand something. I know that it's going to be hard for you to understand, and I know you probably know it but... we're here for you. Me and James are here for you. I know you haven't really had any adults say that and really mean it, but we really do."

Lily sat at the table, and watched as Harry continued to make breakfast. She wondered if it was his way of relieving stress, having something to do with his hands. Already she was ticking off names to invite to his birthday party. Rachel and Hermione were a given. Luna as well.

Why didn't he have as many male friends, though? Oh, there was Neville and Ron, but not one else really stood out. And it's not like she could just ask Harry. Maybe he'd be willing to be included in a few of her Harry's (_Sunstripe_, she told herself) friends.

A small part of her reminded herself he was like Severus. And just how many friends did Severus have? Not acquaintances, not allies, but _friends_.

She took a deep breath, and promised herself this Harry (_Rex_) would not become Severus. He would not become the lonely, grouchy, angry man. Rex and Sunstripe were different, but they were her children. And she decided she wanted to do something simple.

"So... what kind of cake do you want for your birthday?" asked Lily.

This stopped him dead. It took him a long moment, before he shrugged, again. He was uncomfortable.

"I guess we'll have to go to a bakery to help you decide," said Lily. "Cake sounds like an excellent food to ruin your lunch with."

Harry gave a small chuckle of amusement.

0x0x0x0

Everything went according to plan, from the walk from the graveyard, through the field of skeletal snakes, to the house. Remus cast the long Egyptian incantation that disabled Cleopatra's Curse, while James stared out at the field of snakes, giving the occasional shudder. When Harry asked what the curse did, Remus informed him it conjured an asp that had a particularly slow and lethal venom. Remus stressed, several times, the slow aspect of the death.

Harry nodded, not quite comprehending. Lily stepped out of the house, holding the box.

"Five minutes?" asked Harry.

"Of course," replied Lily.

"Shall we?" asked Remus.

"Please," said James.

0x0x0x0

"You really like that chair," said Harry.

"The final three will provide you with the most trouble," said Riddle, ignoring Harry. They were in the Riddle Manor, Harry guessed. It'd been cleaned, a few house elves borrowed from various households to maintain the once-dilapidated wreck of a house. Proper wards had been placed, muggle-repelling, anti-fire, and other, less simplistic and far more lethal ones.

There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, filled with a rainbow assortment of flames. Harry wasn't sure, but felt as though images coalesced within those flames.

"The easiest is in Hogwarts," said Riddle. "In a secret room, the Room of Requirement."

"Figures you'd find that," said Harry. "How'd you do it?"

"I asked a House Elf for the school's lost and found," commented Riddle. "I wanted better clothing, as I recall."

"Huh," said Harry. "Never thought of that."

"There's an alarming number of things you don't think of, Potter."

Harry glared at Riddle, but ignored him.

"So what is it?"

On the table nearby was a silver tiara. Harry examined it, and across it's front was, in old saxon, "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

"This belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, didn't it?" asked Harry.

"Of course. I didn't pick simple things for my Horcruxes, Potter. The Locket belonged to Salazaar himself, and the ring belonged to the Gaunt family, direct descendants of Slytherin himself. The cup belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, as well."

Harry nodded, as he lifted and examined a golden cup with two handles on either side. He looked past the table, and noted the rather large snake sleeping in the corner of the room.

"And the snake?" asked Harry.

"Very good, Potter. I see you've finally figured out I don't put things on display for the sake of having them on display. As I said, my final three would be difficult."

"The tiara shouldn't be difficult," said Harry.

"Diadem, Potter. I challenge you to get it without Dumbledore finding out."

At this, Harry nodded, taking a seat next to the fire.

"The Cup?"

"In the LeStrange vault. Given you stated that Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Rodolphus are dead, that means it went either Narcissa or Andromeda Black. Which of those two are likely to get it?"

"That could be true," said Harry, nodding. "Or, it could have been left to Bellatrix's daughter."

"Bellatrix couldn't have had a daughter," said Riddle. "Rodolphus wasn't one to have sex with her at any point she could get pregnant."

An embarassed silence fell on Harry's part.

"What?" asked Riddle. "When I say I know things man was not meant to know, Potter, I mean _things man was not meant to know_. My Death Eaters have an the annoying habit of boasting about whatever unfortunate sexual proclivities they have on a regular basis. It's only become worse now that they've escaped Azkhaban."

Harry nodded, hoping and praying this conversation would soon end, and knowing all the while it wouldn't.

"Rodolphus regularly stated he could only ever get it up without the sight of blood on his dick, and only had sex with Bellatrix during her time of the month."

Harry began looking around for something to stab into his own ears, as Riddle continued to speak.

"I suppose that was the reason she regularly joined... my... bed. Ah."

Harry looked to Riddle, as he sat in the recliner, hoping it was over.

"The daughter is my counterpart's, Potter?"

Harry nodded, carefully.

"I suppose she was born on July 31st, wasn't she? Perhaps in the year 1980?"

Harry nodded once more.

"Fuck."

Harry remained silent.

"You have no idea what a woman's time of the month even is, do you Potter?"

Harry shook his head.

"You should have gone to any of the idiot adults in your life, Potter."

Harry began to realize his mistake, when he found himself in Snape's dungeon classroom, a strange and terrifying diagram on the chalkboard. Riddle's face cracked open with a sadistic grin, his red eyes alight with a maniacal _glee_, his wand already in motion directing Harry's eyes to the very center of the diagram.

"We begin, Mister Potter, with the female genitalia. Repeat after me: _vagina_."

0x0x0x0

Lily came downstairs the next morning to find the liquor cabinet broken into, Rex with his forehead on the dining room table, and a half-empty bottle of whisky.

She was entirely unsure of what to make of this.

**EDIT 10/16/2011: **Big thanks to _hidden fox_ for pointing out I got the LeStrange brothers mixed up. I also realized I spelled Rodolphus wrong. I swore I looked it up, but apparently I can't read. It's fixed now.

**Author's Note:** Let it never be said that Tom Marvolo Riddle _isn't evil._

Random, terrible facts: I had Rabastan's sexual fetish written down since the second or third chapter. This will not be the last piece of soul-rending horror Riddle will force upon Harry. I was laughing the entire time I wrote Riddle's final scene. The next chapter will be Sunstripe and Rex's birthday party. Yes, that is a _bad thing_tm.

Also, I would like to state that I'm a terrible, terrible person. I'm taking a break from this fic to recharge and refuel the atomic turbines. Also, I'm finishing this at 2:14AM on Saturday morning. I liked having a buffer, and I want to rebuild one before I restart this. Worry Not! There will be something posting on saturdays in it's place! Jamie Evans and Fate's Bitch. I'm posting the prologue immediately, so you have something to tag an alert with. Much like this, I've got a fairly sizable buffer. The chapters will also be somewhat randomly sized, just as a warning.


	17. Chapter 17: Happy Birthday, Harry!

**Chapter 17 – Happy Birthday, Harry Potter!**

Disclaimer: I don't own this. No really, I don't. Stop asking.

0x0x0x0

Riddle stalked through Malfoy manor, ignoring the sympathetic headache he was getting from Potter's hangover.

Predictable, really.

Riddle would have reveled in Potter's pain, but he had other, far more important concerns.

Namely, what had happened to Bellatrix. His subtle questioning of Potter revealed a Portrait of Bellatrix that was lucid, sane, and, well, capable of holding a conversation.

Why? Why had it happened? What reason was behind her degeneration into a raving lunatic? Originally, he'd thought it'd been the Black family degeneration. He more than recalled Bella's statements on Walburga's madness in her later years. He'd have to ask Potter about her portrait... and Bella's.

Which lead back to his original question: Why? Did something happen? Did someone do something to her? Was she the branch in the timelines?

Riddle wanted to run his hands through his still growing hair, but any act of anxiousness suggested weakness. Weakness could not be displayed here, in Malfoy Manor.

Instead, he entered into Bellatrix's private quarters at Malfoy Manor, and ignored the half-dead muggle on the floor. The house elves had long since learned not to clean up after Bellatrix. When she died, the entire room would have to be remodeled to get out all the stains.

"Yes, My Lord?" asked Bellatrix, bright-eyed and somewhat sane. Somewhat.

"Bella, I have a few questions you might be able to answer."

0x0x0x0

"Hello, Madam LeStrange," said Harry. Sirius stood nearby, curious about this conversation.

"Hello, Potter," said Bellatrix. She still felt like she'd eaten something sour, but

"See, that's what I'm asking you to not look like when you talk to your daughter," said Harry.

"Daughter?" asked Sirius, his face going white. "Really?"

"Yes, Sirius," replied Bellatrix, rolling her eyes in a manner that was more dignified than anything Harry had ever done. "I have a _child_. I'm more than certain you still don't have one?"

"Err... no, not really."

"I am not surprised in the slightest. Always the white sheep."

"Hey! It's not my fault!"

"Oh, no, not in the slightest. Never _your_ fault, is it?"

"Can we get back on track?" asked Harry.

"Potter, we are having a Black Family discussion," replied Bellatrix. "Neither of us have had one in fourteen years. Please don't interrupt."

Harry rolled his eyes, and just stepped out of his room. Let them have their "discussion." Instead, he went downstairs.

"So, Harry, have a present for Rachel yet?" asked James, his hands behind his back.

"Yes. Sirius is arguing with it now," replied Harry.

James took that in stride.

"You going to tell me what it is? Because I know Sirius refused to."

"No. I want it to be a surprise," he replied.

"Damn. Well, let's go on to something equally important that we just haven't had a chance to get to."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"Quidditch!" replied James, bringing a broomstick out from behind his back.

"Oh," commented Harry, taking it. Then he smiled, taking the broomstick in hand. "So where are we doing this?"

"The Burrow. Come on!" said James, heading into the front room when the floo was. Before Harry could say anything, James had already thrown in a pinch of floo powder, and called out "The Burrow!"

Harry stopped for a moment, before steeling himself and following.

"We really need to work on your landings," commented James, helping Harry off the floor.

"Yeah," replied Harry, glancing around the room. It was all the same, as near as he could tell.

"Hello, you must be Harry!" came Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," replied Harry.

"Welcome to the Burrow. Your brother is out on the pitch with Ron and the twins."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

Harry immediately walked through the house for the back door. He didn't want to entirely be here right now, but felt it would be better to at least be in the air. He took a long look at the orchard of the Burrow, noticing how somethings were the same, but somethings were a little different. Arthur's shed looked freshly painted, but the pond and the trees all seemed the same. He could see the twins, Ron, and Harry playing two to a side Quidditch, one twin per team, and decided he had a little time to get used to the broom first.

James frowned at this, but after a little bit of egging on, managed to drag Harry into a good game of three-to-a-side Quidditch.

0x0x0x0

Harry opened his bedroom door, to be assaulted by the sound of Sirius snoring.

"He drank himself stupid about two hours ago," commented Bellatrix. "Turns out there's a fair number of white sheep in the family."

Harry nodded.

"Are you inviting Andi along?"

"Andi? Oh, Andromeda?"

"Yes, I think she'd like to meet her neice."

Harry hadn't thought of that, and nodded in surprise.

"I'll ask her if she'd be interested," he replied. "Are you ready to meet your daughter, raised by heathen, barbarian muggles?"

Bellatrix smirked.

"No. I doubt I'll ever be. But I'm willing to meet my daughter nevertheless. I suppose what matters most is that they love her."

At this, Harry nodded.

0x0x0x0

Harry wasn't sure what to do.

Rex, his brother (what else could he be?) was moping. And it was his birthday!

Harry knew there was a weird muggle song about a girl crying on her birthday, but women were a strange breed so he didn't question it.

Harry had thought he was making progress with Rex, but this just seemed evidence against that hypothesis. At least he knew better than to try and drag him into the conversation. If anyone wanted to brave it, he'd let them, though.

And, well, it seemed Ginny's friend Luna was going to be that brave soul. Huh.

0x0x0x0

Objectively, Harry knew this was also his party.

This did not stop him from feeling otherwise.

He wouldn't have realized it was even coming up, with all the things his family kept dragging him into, and he honestly didn't mind. Again, objectively, he knew they meant well.

It was James that was the worst. Lily was like a gentle wave, picking him up and carrying him along. He never fought it, and he felt as though she knew exactly how to phrase it to get him to go along. Sunstripe seemed to be picking up on it, as well, and was trying to emulate her, however badly. Azalea, at least, realized he didn't mind explaining and teaching, and would look up to him as a mixture of big brother and teacher, and in exchange, he learned a lot of the theory he never picked up. Sirius just seemed to know what to say and when to say it. Remus never did anything, and only moped. James... James just expected. He had an expectation, and then became more and more pushy when Harry didn't meet it.

Which made it worse, really.

Like right now, James just expected Harry to go out, and act like his brother and mingle and socialize.

"James. Don't," was all Sirius said on the matter.

James frowned, seemed angry somehow, until Sirius gave a slow shake of his head. Only then did James relent, and it seemed awkward for him to do that.

"He's trying to help," commented Luna's airy voice, assuaging some of Harry's guilt. "I don't think he knows how. He doesn't realize you aren't his son."

Harry blinked at that, somewhat confused.

"You seem better, more at peace," added Luna.

"Thanks," replied Harry.

"A lot of people must be confused by you, I should think. They all expect your twin, but then you aren't your twin, are you?"

"Not all of them."

"No. I suppose Rachel doesn't, does she?"

Harry scowled at that.

"She's a very nice person," continued Luna. "She always has a kind word and a kinder smile for me."

Harry snorted at that.

"Is that something funny?"

"No... just... just thinking of her parents."

"You know the Marx's?" asked Luna.

"No... her birth parents. I've- er- met her father, at least on my side, a few times."

Luna nodded.

"And now I'm realizing that my gift for her is an incredibly bad idea," added Harry.

"It's from her parents?"

"Her mother."

"I think she'd like it, to know some part of her mother. It's always important to know where we come from, even if we don't like where that is. It doesn't change who you are, it just changes what you know about yourself. Does knowing your parents change who you are?"

Harry shrugged.

"They aren't my parents... how did you know mine were dead?"

"I asked Azalea about you. She had a few things to say."

"Oh."

"You know, they probably see themselves as your parents, and will keep acting like them."

With that, Luna stood, brushed off her knees, and walked back over to Ginny, who was staring after Sunstripe.

Was it really that simple? Would James and Lily really see themselves as his parents? Somehow, he didn't see it, but he supposed they could. Hypothetically. Theoretically. He was sure there were other words, but they were Hermione's words.

Which reminded him. Riddle had been... moody, for lack of a better description the last week or so. Harry began wondering how painful it would be to call Riddle a grumpy old man. He was awoken from his reverie by the sound of a car back-firing and screaming. Already, parents were grabbing children, and disappearing with pops. Harry watched as Fred and George grabbed Ginny and Luna, and disappeared with a quick bang. Harry felt ice water being dumped down his back, and assumed the wards around the house had fallen. He drew his wand, and watched as Voldemort glided onto the property.

"Ah, a lovely gathering," he began. "A lovely day, at the end of July, and such beautiful weather we're having, isn't it?" He clasped his hands, those still there cowering in terror.

Harry's fist clenched. He knew this Voldemort would be just as terrible, just as powerful as the other, but what choice did he have? He knew what he had to do.

"Leave them alone, _Tom_," shouted Harry, walking around the crowd. "It's me you want, right? Born as the seventh month dies?"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the cowardly hero?" asked Voldemort.

"Coward?" asked Harry, looking back at the others, then back at Voldemort. "I'm standing in front of people, not behind them."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and then stepped before his Death Eaters, examining Harry.

"I had hoped for a Hero slightly less... stringy."

At this, Harry shrugged. He wasn't afraid. He was more... resigned. He knew what would happen. He accepted it. Expected it.

"I have a question for you, before you kill me," said Harry.

"A last request?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Harry.

"I suppose. What is your last request?"

"I wanted to know... my mother, when you killed her, asked you to spare my life. To take hers instead. Did Bellatrix do the same for her daughter?"

There was a beat of silence. A twisted look, something of both rage and fear crossed his face, and his wand was in hand and make two quick jabs that Harry recognized, and didn't bother to dodge.

"_CRUCIO_!" screamed Voldemort.

Harry didn't recall the night at the graveyard. He couldn't. He couldn't remember anything at all. Instead, his mind, his world, all of his existence was filled with one thing.

Pain.

He wasn't sure if he screamed or not. He may have, he may not have. He may have been in so much pain that he _couldn't_ scream.

And then, the worst of it passed.

Everything ached. His entire body felt like it was being stabbed with pins and needles, his muscles were on fire, and his vision was blurry. He was fairly certain he was lying on the ground, if only because he could see the sky above him. Both of his fists were clenched, and he felt like he'd never be able to unclench them. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like this. He could hear voices, faintly, and then he was being lifted off the ground, turned around, and then he saw, once more, that snake-faced bastard.

He was floating towards the snake-faced bastard, and stopped barely a foot away. It was then, that Harry realized his clenched fist was still holding his wand.

"Do you have any _more _last words, you insolent brat?" growled out Voldemort.

"Yes," croaked out Harry. "_Expelliarmus_."

Some part of Harry giggled at the look of surprise on Voldemort's face as he went flying. Harry hit the ground on his feet, a yew wand bouncing off his face, and promptly collapsed into a heap. He flopped his left arm over to the wand, his hand shaking, and unclenching his fist enough to take hold of the tip, before somehow relaxing his hand back into a fist.

Then he wondered why a lion had just leapt over him, and why he was being dragged along the ground.

Which was when he passed out.

**Author's Note: **I'm a _dick_.

I feel I've earned it, for this week. I totaled my car on Monday, had a four hour job interview on Tuesday, and received a call on Thursday barely fifteen minutes after I'd woken up stating my Aunt had been moved from the ER to Hospice care.

This is tumor number 4. All of them were behind the year. The first three were easy, cut out in a quick operation that didn't even require much in the way of shaving. The fourth was too big, and she went in for chemo a month and a half ago. It didn't help. Between ongoing mental issues caused by the tumors, combined with her own stubborn refusal of help, well...

I'm typing this note while sitting in the hospital, waiting for Death to come.

The tumor's already stolen from her so much. She was so bright, full of life and vigor. Now, she's so thin and small, like all the life has been stolen from her. She tried to do everything herself, to take care of everything herself. She was, for the most part, self-employed. She bought, refinished, and sold antiques. Now?

She's lying in a bed, barely able to move, barely awake, her own body fighting for every breath. You can't realize how _thin_ a person can become, without seeing it. When I hold her hand, I worry about breaking her arm, for how small it is. There's nothing there, just wrinkled, scarred skin and bone.

The Hospice is as quiet a place as can be, in a hospital. The voices of nurses down the hall, the quiet hum of air conditioning, the occasional clattering of equipment, and the occasional grindbuzzing of the hospital bed itself, shifting itself to prevent bed sores. The rooms here are well-appointed, clinically designed for comfort and waiting. I'd wonder if I was in a hotel, if it weren't for the rolling bed and medical equipment imbedded in the walls. That, and the terrible food. Hotels, at least, try. Hospitals manage to fuck up Orange Juice.

Enough of me. Sorry I'm posting this here, but I needed to purge it somewhere, and this was convenient.

I doubt I'll have something finished for next saturday, given the way this week is going. We'll see.


	18. Chapter 18: Not Yet

**Chapter 18 – Not Yet.**

Disclaimer: I pity the fool who hasn't figured it out by now.

0x0x0x0

It had taken the better part of a week, but Augusta was taking a seat for Hermione's first presentation on the Muggle World.

The first few days were spent arguing with Augusta about just how much work she was allowed to do, but Hermione used it to her advantage to get Remus Lupin on the property, and helping her with the charms work. Augusta looked down on the werewolf, but she knew Frank had been friends with him, and Neville said good things about him. So she held her tongue. For now, at least.

Then the _muggle_ things came.

It started with a box. It had a cylinder with glass in it at one end, a tail with metal pieces at the end of it, and a dozen or so circular metal discs, all labelled with things Augusta didn't bother to read. Hermione's father handed her a strangle metal-handled object in a leather holster, along with several colorful paper boxes. Hermione treated it with a mixture of fear and reverence, holding it as though the item itself was cursed.

Her parents merely asked why she was staying with Augusta, and when it was explained it was an unbreakable vow that would kill her, and also the deal that was struck with the Dark Lord, they seemed to understand.

"Your daughter is pregnant out of wedlock, and you don't mind?" asked Augusta.

"Oh, no, we do," commented Hermione's father. "It's just, well... we were... visited by _him_."

"Having a child to escape that _monster_ is understandable," added Hermione's mother, shuddering in revulsion in mere remembrance of his visage. "I hope you do as well on this as everything else, dear."

Hermione gave her mother a small, thankful smile.

And once more, her work began in earnest. It was a strange, what the girl was putting together, but she was clearly intelligent, if ignorant of Wizarding Ways.

And _oh_, the questions she would ask!

Like the fact that Noble Titles were kept track of by the Royal College of Arms, but Wills were stored and authenticated at Gringotts, but read by solicitors. Or the proper etiquette for speaking with different men. She didn't know any of it! How could she _not_ know? And thus she blamed the muggles. Her parents owned their own home, didn't they? Weren't they aristocracy?

To which, it was explained, that there was a concept known as the _Middle Class_. People who were financially secure, but still actually had to work for a living, rather than manage investments. They were not aristocracy (although they tried. Hermione put forward the examples of the Dursleys as evidence), but they weren't working poor like the Weasleys or any of the other shop owners in Diagon Alley that lived above their shops, and paid their workers a "subsistence wage."

It was... eye-opening... for Augusta. I mean, certainly, there were individuals such as the Potters, but they were outliers, not the norm.

Then there was the presentation itself.

She sat, staring at the white-washed wall for five minutes, then at Hermione.

"And this... that was all true?"

Hermione nodded.

Augusta looked back at the white-washed wall, the scenes of horror still etched in her mind.

"I... I..." She shook her head.

"Do you understand, now, why most muggles think the wizarding world is backwards and quaint? Why they don't consider the Wizarding World to be all that grand, once they've grown up?"

Augusta nodded.

"Do you think it'll work on Riddle?"

"Who?"

"You-Know-Who," replied Hermione.

"I don't... Riddle?" asked Augusta. "As in Tom Riddle? The Slytherin Head Boy about a year ahead of me?"

Hermione nodded.

Augusta looked back at the white-washed wall.

"Well," she commented. She sat, quietly for a moment, her mind attempting to catch-up with everything. "Well."

"It's... a lot to process," commented Hermione.

"Yes," replied Augusta. "Yes it is."

She was silent another moment.

"And they really did..."

Hermione nodded.

Augusta was silent another long moment.

"They'd kill us all, wouldn't they?"

"If they had a reason. Or maybe if they didn't have a reason. Honestly, people are horrible monsters, whether muggle or magical."

0x0x0x0

Albus Dumbledore once more puzzled over the enigma of Harry Potter. It was obvious the boy was marked by the prophecy. The scar on his forehead was a very literal mark, and Albus was left wondering just what could be done.

Shoe-horning the boy into this prophecy may or may not work. It was doubtful at best, since the boy was _that_ Voldemort's equal, not this one's. He'd hoped someone would come forward with Fawkes' other wand, but nothing came to be. He was, at least at the moment, groping blind, in the dark, without a candle and both arms tied behind his back.

It was not a pleasant feeling.

Then, of course, there was the fact that someone was hunting Horcruxes. The Gaunt shack had been broken into, the floorboard that contained the object was moved aside. The object itself was both unknown and gone.

His own interrogation of the diary revealed little. Even under the most powerful of compulsion charms (curses, if he was honest with himself), nothing was revealed from the diary. So he destroyed it, in the hopes that it was the only one.

No such luck, unfortunately.

Alastor's death was a blow. Not an insurmountable one, but a blow none-the-less. There were only so many capable fighters in the Order, and without a place to meet, they weren't going to get very far. He'd asked Sirius about using Grimmauld Place, but Sirius stated there was no possible way to make it habitable. Between the portraits, the dark artifacts, and whatever infestations allowed by the mad house-elf controlling it, there was little Sirius cared to do. Any attempt would not be completed within his lifetime.

Then the luminous stag arrived.

0x0x0x0

Lucius Malfoy smiled at the insult the Dark Lord played on the mudblood girl, arriving on Potter's birthday.

"Riddle," growled out the little chit.

"Granger," replied the Dark Lord, smiling. "You know Lucius and Severus."

The girl nodded to Severus, but ignored Lucius entirely.

"You will pay your proper respects, girl," drawled Lucius..

"I did," replied the little bitch, to which Lucius drew his wand, ready to curse the little bitch and teach her her place.

"Lucius?"

"Yes, mi'lord?"

"Put that away or I will stab out your eye with it."

"Yes, mi'lord," replied Lucius, confused, but returning his wand to his robes.

"Granger, Potter wished for me to inform you, and I quote, 'that I am not your father,' end quote."

Lucius was bewildered, and noted that Severus was _visibly_ confused by that statement. Granger furrowed her eyebrows, before widening in surprise, and then nodded.

"Thank you," she replied, and then walked to the front of the room. She took a breath, and Lucius watched as the girl's nervousness melted away.

"What I am about to show you, tell you, and demonstrate, are all factually accurate, and verifiable using outside sources. If you don't believe me, you can go into any muggle library and see these figures, and find this information for yourself."

With a few whispered charms, the lights dimmed, the box next to them projected a map of the world onto the wall.

"Perhaps you remember this, Riddle, but in 1939, Britain went to war against Germany and Italy, and was soon joined in this conflict by the United States and the USSR." At this, the girl pointed to the map, but the countries were labelled entirely wrong. The USSR? That was Russia. And this United States was the Northern New World.

At this, Riddle nodded.

"I'm sorry, but you're already wrong," commented Lucius.

"I'm not talking about the Wizarding World, Lucius. I'm talking about the Muggle one. Grindlewald, for all the damage he did, killed barely four thousand wizards over six years, from 1940 to 1946. Between 1939 and 1945, the Muggles went to war. And in so doing, nearly _60 million_ were killed."

"You... you can't be serious," replied Lucius.

"She speaks the truth, Lucius. Now listen."

"60 Million!" cried Lucius. "You can't kill 60 million people! There aren't even armies that large!"

"There were over 100 million soldiers fielded during World War II," replied Hermione. "Only about twenty million of those deaths were soldiers, however. Nearly 40 million were civilians."

"You're joking. You have to be."

"At the time, there were 2.5 billion people on Earth."

"But... but... how?"

"The muggles, over the last two hundred years, have performed feats that would terrify you, Lucius. Even as far back as the 1850s, muggle battles would result in tens of thousands dead. The conflict I'm talking about is World War II. You've heard of the destruction of London at the hand of the muggles, correct?"

"Yes, of course. There was a series of fires."

"Really? I'd be amused if I wasn't so horrified by your ignorance," replied the girl. She waved her wand again, and the box began to make a humming noise. The picture changed, replaced by movement. Armies marched across Europe, backed by machines. Explosions littered the country as Lucius learned about the London Blitz, Lightening War, and the Eastern and Western Fronts.

He sat in quiet horror as he watched cloud after cloud form, each shaped like a mushroom, form over cities and test sites. He learned of the recently signed S.T.A.R.T. Treaty, _reducing_ the number of such weapons to 6,000 devices, and _only _1,600 machines capable of being sent against a city on the other side of the planet.

He even listened to a quote, from the very man who lead their invention. "We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the _Bhagavad-Gita_; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty and, to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.' I suppose we all thought that, one way or another."

Lucius learned of Death on a scale he could not comprehend, that he could not imagine man perpetrating on his fellow man. But it was done.

The presentation ended with a picture of a blue orb, hanging in a black sky. White swatches and covered it, and the landscape the picture was taken from was a grey, stoney matt.

"This is a picture of the Earth, from the Moon."

Silence greeted this statement.

"It was taken in 1969, by three men from the United States. The project to put a man on the moon began in 1961, when the then leader of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, stated it could happen.

"While the wizarding world sat on its laurels for dealing with Grindlewald, the muggle one plowed ahead, ever-changing and ever-growing. While the wizarding world saw lamps that conjured gas as the end-all and be-all for lighting, the muggle one invented lights bright enough to turn night into day. And while the wizarding world was content to ride a broom through the air, the muggle one reached for the stars. Muggles don't see limitations, they see challenges. They don't see the impossible, they just see what hasn't been done yet. And right now, they are a sleeping dragon. If you awaken it, we will all die."

"Miss Granger, once I realized the tone of your presentation, I expected more connections between the Holocaust, and how the muggles would treat us."

"Actually, I was expecting more of Joseph Stalin response. Mass graves, rather than any sort of work camps or gas chambers."

"Gas chambers?" asked Lucius. He was summarily ignored.

"I should have paid more attention to the war," commented the Dark Lord, aloud. He sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his now-existent nose. "Granger, do you have further reading?"

"I don't have any that would be the sort you're looking for. I have books on the more personal side of things. I can ask my father to get some, but he'd like need money to pay for them."

"Lucius, speak with the goblins, and begin establishing muggle accounts. Even with the restrictions the Ministry has put in place, I'm sure they still have their methods and loopholes. Have one of your aides work with Miss Granger to ensure they don't cheat us. We have economic might in the wizarding world, we will need it in the muggle one, as well. Severus..."

The Dark Lord stood, his eyes narrowing, his fingers shaking slightly.

"Potter, you idiot," he muttered.

"What's happened?" asked Hermione.

"He's being held under a cruciatus curse. Likely from my counterpart."

There was a quiet silence for a moment, Lucius and Severus watching the Dark Lord, his hands slightly shaking

0x0x0x0

_Potter, why were you just hit by a curciatus?_

_ Potter?_

_ POTTER?_

**Author's Notes: **There, you've gotten a hint.

For those of you who wish to know such things, my aunt passed on the 18th of April, and her funeral was held on the 21st. She left behind two cats (who my parents took in), and a house full of furniture in various states of deconstruction and repair. There is also, apparently, a kitchen table that cannot be removed from the kitchen without a reciprocating saw since she glued it together there. There was also a screened in back porch. The operative word being "was", as she enclosed it. Using doors. Yes, doors. She replaced all the screens with wooden doors, with glass window panes. I should have taken a picture and submitted it to "There, I Fixed It." I think even they would have performed a double take.

Lucius is attempting to wrap his mind around the START Treaty, signed in 1991, and limited signatory nations to 6,000 warheads and 1,600 ICBMs capable of being launched via silo or ballistic submarines. I like to think that the nations signed it so that they wouldn't have to maintain their existing stockpiles.

Hermione will likely hand them John Hershey's _Hiroshima_ and Elie Weisel's _Night_. I doubt she'd have ever read Art Spiegelman's _Maus_, though. She may, eventually, hand them _One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch_ by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, but that might be to uplifting for what she's going for. How a book about a man in a Soviet gulag can be uplifting, I'm not entirely certain. But it is.

In case no one noticed, both Something Wicked _and_ this updated today! Why? Because I now spend about 2 and a half hours on a train everyday, because _I have a new job_. It's a real one. I have an office (although I share it with a co-worker), and it's not retail. I'm ecstatic about it, I'm already slightly less stressed (I'll be even less stressed when I see my new paycheck), and I'm working for a solid company.

So expect more updates!


	19. Chapter 19: What's Going On?

**Chapter 19 – What's Going On?**

Lily screamed when Harry took the Cruciatus. She didn't pay attention to the rest of the crowd, as James and Sirius tried to rally them. Their whispered call for blasting curses on three fell on deaf ears.

This was Voldemort. He was not to be denied.

Then Harry cast the expelliarmus, and everyone could see the shocked look on Voldemort's face as he was sent flying.

"Now!" screamed James, his wand already in motion, one of the tables changing into a lion and leaping across Harry to shield him from curses. Sirius and Remus sent blasting curses into the Death Eaters, while Lily summoned Harry from where he lay.

The rest of the crowd quickly joined in, a cascade of charms, hexes, jinxes, and occasional curses bowled over the Death Eaters, stunning them, binding them, causing them to spit up all manner of creatures, turning their limbs to various other things, and in general leaving them a rather sorry pile.

Until Voldemort rejoined the fight.

Even without a wand, his banishing curse sent dozens of party-goers flying.

Fear gripped the crowd, as they began to flee, while James, Sirius, and Remus began to duel him.

There were no flashes of brilliant green, at least, but his repertoire of curses was still impressive for a man without a wand. Tongues of flame, shards of ice, flashes of banishers and cutting charms, and the occasional blue glow of a shield were all present as Voldemort relied on skill alone to face off against three men.

Lily, meanwhile, was fighting a summoning charm unlike any other. She looked, and realized it wasn't Harry that was being summoned. It was the wand in Harry's left hand. He had a white-knuckle grip on it, even though he was unconcious. And then she realized something horrifying. Voldemort was summoning his wand, forcing her to throw everything she had into it, while he was dueling James, Sirius, and Remus, all at the same time.

She swallowed, and kept up her part. Something had to give.

And it did.

With a bright flash of flame, Dumbledore arrived.

And with a final burst of magic, Voldemort sent a _wave_ of banishment, sending everyone except Dumbledore flying, and disappeared with the crack of dis-apparition.

0x0x0x0

_Potter, why have you been hit with the cruciatus curse?_

_ I asked Voldemort if Bella gave him the same lines Mum gave you._

_ Ah. You're an idiot. I'm going to have to figure out a way to train you._

_ Train me?_

_ True. Perhaps a better phrase would be "beat the stupid out of you." Show me._

Together, they watched what Harry knew of the fight.

_You still have the Yew wand?_

_ I don't know. It might have been taken as evidence._

_ It wouldn't. Certainly, an Auror could examine it. But they wouldn't take it, as it is now _yours_._

_ What? Why?_

_ Because wands are won, you simpleton! Don't you know anything of wand lore?_

_ Beyond "the wand choses the wizard," no, but that's not what I'm asking. Why keep the wand?_

Harry could feel Riddle's annoyance deep into his bones.

_ Think, Potter! Our first duel! What happened?_

_ Priori Incantatum._

_ Correct. Your Holly wand is not the brother of this Yew wand. Does my daughter use the Holly wand?_

_ No. She doesn't._

_ Then that means it's still in circulation at Ollivander's. And where would I go if I needed a new wand, and I knew I must win back my old one from the one who defeated me? I would not take one from my followers, hoping it was a good match. Instead, I would go right to the source, and see if there is a perfectly serviceable one there._

_ Ollivander's._

_ Correct. There's hope for you yet, Mister Potter. There's hope for you yet._

0x0x0x0

When Harry awoke, it was to a rather familiar ceiling. He could feel a tingling in his skin, and everything ached, but beyond that he felt fine. Opening his eyes took a fair amount of effort, because _everything_ ached. He closed them, and that made everything hurt less, so he kept them that way.

"Harry?" came a women's voice. It took him a moment to place it, but it seemed to be Lily's.

He groaned in response.

"Don't try to move. It'll only hurt more."

He turned his head anyways to look at Lily, ignoring the muscle pain that spiked as he did so. She was sitting in the chair beside him, and James and Sunstripe were sitting on another bed, talking quietly. Sirius was sitting quietly, staring out the window, while Remus was discussing something with Azalea.

Lily called Poppy over, and Poppy fussed over him for a few minutes, making him drink another potion that loosened up his muscles, and eased a number of the aches he was undergoing.

"You've been asleep for a day and a half, Mister Potter. It's about 9am, on the 2nd. Unfortunately, the soreness will go away only through movement, so once you're up for it, I would recommend getting up and moving about."

"Alright," he croaked, even as he accepted the glass of water. He drank it all, and then asked for more, even as he sat up.

"How are you feeling?" asked James.

"Like I got hit with the Cruciatus," replied Harry, picking up his glasses from the side table and putting them on. Something clicked in his head. They were in Hogwarts. The diadem.

"Remus, Sirius," said Harry. They both came over.

"The 7th floor corridor, across form the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Pace back and forth three times while thinking 'I need the room of hidden things.' Ravenclaw's Diadem is in there somewhere."

Both of them nodded, and left.

"That leaves how many?"

"Nagini, the Cup, and the Diary," replied Harry. "Assuming they find it."

"Don't worry, they will," said James. "They're pretty good at finding things. Merlin knows we had to do it enough times before we left Hogwarts."

At this, Lily rolled her eyes, as Sunstripe and Azalea joined them. Once within range, Azalea immediately leapt upon him, crushing him in a tight hug.

"You're my favorite brother! Don't be so stupid!" she said, burying her face in Harry's pajamas.

"Hay!" said Sunstripe. "I thought I was your favorite brother!"

"That's because you used to be my _only_ brother," replied Azalea, she then looked up at Harry. "Really! Don't do that!"

"Sorry," said Harry, a little confused. "A bit of a saving people thing."

"A bit! That was You-Know-Who!"

At this, Harry shrugged.

"If I didn't come forward, he would have killed more people," replied Harry.

"Mister Potter," came Albus Dumbledore's voice, standing at the open door. "What you did was an incredibly brave, and incredibly foolhardy thing. To hear your reasons for, I must say that I have rarely seen someone who acted so bravely before. I must also add the caveat that I have only heard of men who have survived such a brave action."

"Thank you, sir."

"Your welcome, Mister Potter."

Harry looked at Dumbledore for a moment, before glancing at the lone wand on his night table.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Mister Potter?"

"I'm going to need that wand back. Not only is it mine by conquest, I'll need it if he comes after me again."

"And what makes you think that, Mister Potter?"

"Because Ollivander has a Holly and Pheonix feather wand, Professor."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, before nodding.

"Yes, that he does. You think he will go to Ollivander?"

"I think he'll want the best he can find, Professor."

"Yes, yes I suppose he would," replied Dumbledore, deep in thought.

The others were silent, around this exchange, and watched as Dumbledore carefully produced a thirteen inch wand of yew, and placed it next to a ten and a half inch wand of holly.

"Also... Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Rachel mentioned a diary that she handed you. That Ginny had. It belonged to him. What happened to it?"

"I destroyed it, Mister Potter. Do you know what it is?"

"I know it attempted to resurrect him," replied Harry, not answering the question in the way that Dumbledore had so often done to him. He felt the light touch of legilimency, and ignored it. It was a difficult job, to keep one's mind clear at all times, to always hold the emptiness at the front of the mind, while doing the proper thinking in the back. It was a strange form of mental multi-tasking, and Harry still didn't have it down quite yet. He had it down well enough, though, to block out Dumbledore. The probe left as quickly as it came. Harry thought Dumbledore looked a little guilty.

"Yes. I questioned it, hoping to gain some insight into what it was," said Dumbledore, as though nothing was happening. "Voldemort, however, is as stubborn and hard-headed as he ever was."

"Professor... I don't think he's stubborn or hard-headed."

"Oh?"

"He just hates you."

At this, Dumbledore merely nodded in acceptance.

"It is true, Mister Potter, that Voldemort's hatred for me is unmatched." He looked off intot he distance for a moment. "I suppose, perhaps, he is my fault. I thought a display of power to one so young would cow him, bring him in line with the others. And I mistrusted him, disliked him. Perhaps it is, partly, my fault, but one cannot fault me for the choices the man himself made."

At this, Harry nodded.

"And what do you think he considers you?"

"Which Voldemort?" asked Harry. "My original, or the deranged lunatic I'm dealing with now?"

"Either one," replied Dumbledore, seating himself on a nearby bed, clearly interested in the conversation.

"My original... he didn't hate me. He told me that. He considered me an annoyance, a loose end. The person he hated was my mother."

"Your mother?" asked Dumbledore, glancing to Lily for a moment.

"He felt she was the one who defeated him. I was merely the symbol held aloft, so that the masses wouldn't have faith in a mudblood."

"And the prophecy?"

"A mistake on his part. He shouldn't have acted without having the complete prophecy."

At this Albus nodded.

"Yours seems rather... sane, in comparison."

Harry shrugged.

"And the new model?" asked Dumbledore.

"He probably thought I was a curiosity, and an answer to the prophecy. So he needed to kill me. Now? He definitely hates me." Harry reached over and picked up the yew wand. With a quick swish and flick, he levitated the bed across the ward, before gently putting it back down on the ground. "He needs to kill me, now. And he'll do everything he can to do so." He looked to Lily and James.

"As far as we're concerned, you're our son," said James.

"I know you think it's a good idea to push us away," said Lily, "but we won't let you. We're here to stay."

0x0x0x0

Sunstripe sat on one of the bed's. He and Azalea had listened to the entire conversation. That Rex talked about You-Know-Who so easily... it frightened him. It was You-Know-Who. He didn't think he could be that cavalier about someone being out to kill him.

Except... now there was. He was Rex's brother, after all, and You-Know-Who was the sort of person who murdered families to get at single people. So now he was a target. And he'd been goofing off most of the summer. He looked to Azalea, and then back at Rex. Dumbledore had left half-an-hour ago, and now Rex was sitting, deep in thought.

_Better do it now, before I chicken out_, thought Sunstripe, as he stood up and walked over to Rex's bed.

"Hey," said Sunstripe.

Rex smiled and nodded at him.

"Um... I wanted to ask you about that teaching you did..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could teach me and Azzie? Like you did the other kids?"

"Yes, of course," said Harry. "You're worried, aren't you?"

"Yes, of course. It's not everyday you learn You-Know-Who's out to kill you."

At this, Rex smiled.

"No, I suppose not. I wouldn't call him You-Know-Who, though."

"Why?"

"What if I didn't know who?"

At this, Sunstripe blinked.

"I had to convince Hagrid to tell me his name, when I first learned about the wizarding world. And he only agreed because I was the one person who really needed to know. Almost none of the Muggleborn really know his name, and only learned it when Dumbledore told everybody at the end of our fourth year, when he returned."

"Wow," commented Sunstripe. "I know it because Mum and Dad speak with Dumbledore on occasion, and he's willing to say it, but it's so ingrained with everybody else. I didn't realize it was that ingrained."

"Yeah. That, and it gives him power. If you give into the fear of him that much, he's already won. Being that terrified of him just makes him more powerful."

"So... would you be willing to say Voldemort?"

"I'd be willing to say V-Voldemort."

"Alright then."

"So is that really his wand?"

Rex smirked.

0x0x0x0

James and Lily smiled as they watched their two sons talk. Lily knew that they weren't quite getting along, but also knew she couldn't force it. They had to work it out themselves. And a lot of the problem was Sunstripe. He was having a lot of problems relating to Rex, simply because they were raised so differently.

James was the same way. He raised Sunstripe, he taught him what it meant to be a Potter, what it meant to work hard, to be loyal, and to stand up for what he believed in. To always do what was right, not what was easy, to steal Dumbledore's phrase.

And he understood Rex had arrived at the same conclusions, but from an entirely different direction.

Sunstripe loved a good prank. He was so easy going, loving a good bit of fun or just talking to someone. Really, he was James' son, but with Lily's spark of creativity and curiosity. And maybe her moral compass, as well, when it came to pranks. Sunstripe never really approached the line that James and Sirius wobbled back and forth over. Remus tried to hold them back, but it wasn't until the incident with Snape that they really caught on.

Rex was amused by pranks, but never played them. He had a moral compass made of steel, it seemed, and the line was something a long ways off compared to what he was willing to do. There was no confidence outside of his wand-work, and there wasn't that curiosity. They were still James and Lily to him, as well.

It was almost a physical blow to James every time Rex called him that.

She watched as Azalea joined Rex and Sunstripe.

"It's going to be okay," James said aloud. To who, Lily wasn't certain.

"It is," replied Lily.

0x0x0x0

It was when they finally returned to Godric's Hollow, that Lily finally guessed the reason Peter joined _them_, and when. Right out of school, he found a good job, so that his sister could get treatment at St. Mungo's. She'd had a bad bought of accidental magic when she was younger, and she'd been in and out of Hogwarts because of it. With proper treatment, she'd finally gotten a lot of the damage undone, sorting out her magic in the process. She managed to attend classes for an entire month straight without missing a day.

Lily remembered the celebration for it. It was a few weeks before she realized she was pregnant with Harry.

"Why didn't he come to us?" asked James. "Why?"

"I don't know," said Remus. "I just don't know."

Sirius had been staring at their third bottle of whisky for the better part of half an hour, before he spoke for the first time.

"Fuck him," commented Sirius. Sirius was completely incapable of slurring his speech. He couldn't even fake it. "Proper Speech" had been drilled into him from an exceedingly young age. It'd taken five years of hard work for James to at least get him to swear. "Fuck him."

James and Remus looked long and hard at Sirius at this proclamation.

"Really?" asked James.

"Yes," replied Sirius. "Strike him from the record."

And that was it. They each dealt with it in their own way.

James dealt with it by vanishing Peter's left arm when he found the body. He told Peter's family that they should run and hide. Bury the body and leave England before the Dark Lord came for them. They agreed. Lily understood they were in Australia, now.

Sirius just buried it within himself. He put on his eternal prankster's face, and buried it with his hatred of his family. God alone knew what would happen when that finally boiled to the surface again.

Remus threw himself into negotiations with the werewolf packs. Threw himself into any form of work that kept him from actually confronting it.

Lily left them to it, and privately cried for the man she knew, who betrayed them all. The man who gave them up, who worked to resurrect that monster, and pretended to be her friend.

Was he really? Was he _ever_ really?

She didn't know. She never would. And that was the worst part.

**Author's Note: **I'm going to see about working myself up to longer chapters. This one is about halfway down the six-page mark, so that's around 2800 words or so (A quick check reveals it to be 2881, with the header and without the Author's Note. I'm _good_.)

And that's how we resolve a cliffhanger. I was thinking of being _even more_ of a dick, and having Harry wake up at St. Mungo's. I decided I've been cruel enough. Besides, establishing Voldemort is _holy shit_ powerful is always fun. It's not often I get to do that. Jamie Evans I killed him off right quick, while Something Wicked hasn't had the chance to. That'll change in the next few chapters of that... I think. Something Wicked surprises me, at times, with how much material just sort of bubbles up onto the page. The whole Ron and Hermione bit appeared out of left field, and Elizabeth came from the review recommendation of adding an older Slytherin girl. Anyways, enough about that.

We also finally have closure on Peter. Well, as much closure as we're going to get. Which isn't a lot, given how he died.

**Next Chapter:** Rachel's Birthday

**Anon review**:_"They'd kill us all, wouldn't they?"_

"If they had a reason. Or maybe if they didn't have a reason. Honestly, people  
are horrible monsters, whether muggle or magical."  
_  
I'm of the opinion that muggles would lose if wizards were even somewhat  
__intelligent against intelligent and aware muggles as opposed to how they are  
portrayed in the books (stupider than the very illogical wizards (because  
wizards magic sucks up all the intelligence according to jkr))_

muggle repelling charms alone win it for them.

I think you fail to understand the ingenuity of man, when it comes to murdering his fellow man. Both sides would be fighting blind (Think about Arthur's "eliktrisity" comments, and realize he's _head of the Department_ for dealing with them), at first, but given the population disparity, (It's around a 1000-1 ratio at best, as I recall) it wouldn't be that difficult for the muggles to win. After all, that means that for every wizard that dies, they have to kill a thousand muggles.

Most 1st and 2nd world countries have census data and property maps. How many wizards fill out their census? Simply combine census data and property maps. Find the holes, and fire artillery. While a cruise-missile might be faked by the wards, a ballistic trajectory isn't. Add in defectors, in the form of disenfranchised Muggleborns, and suddenly things get a whole lot dicier. Especially since (at least in America, I'm not sure about Britian) a lot of people who don't have job skills, degrees, or anything else go straight into the military.

With defectors, Hogwarts and Diagon would quickly be destroyed. They might try to invade to take prisoners, or they might just bomb it until there isn't anything left. Gringotts would take a few MOABs. With the important infrastructure destroyed, the Wizarding World falls into disarray, and then it becomes a guerilla war. While European militaries aren't geared for fighting them, changes in doctrine will quickly made up for it. Especially since this will be _over-here_, rather than _over-there_ like Vietnam, Iraq, and dozens of other guerilla wars that have been fought in the past 50 years.

Now, if you wish to continue this debate, please put a username to your review so I can send you a PM. I don't like padding story length with review responses, given I'm generally only putting a few thousand words to each chapter. As it stands, this chapter is about 1/6th author's note. Kinda sad.


	20. Chapter 20: Like Father, Like Daughter

**Chapter 20: Like Father, Like Daughter**

**Author's Preface: **The sheer length of reviews I've received over chapter 18 was something of a long and (at times) annoying process. I know I snapped at a few of you, and for that I apologize. In this chapter, we do hear Voldemort's thoughts on the matter.

"Mi'lord, you cannot honestly believe that girl, can you?" asked Lucius, seated in one of the two wing-back chairs of his manor. The Dark Lord was in another, and they were both sipping brandy while watching a fire.

"I do, Lucius. She could not lie to me. While her mind is multi-tracked enough to learn occlumency, she has never had a teacher for it. And if she did learn, I highly doubt even I could break through her focus."

"You are certain of this, Mi'lord?" asked Lucius.

"Of course, I am certain, Lucius. I watched her mind for her entire performance. She believed herself to be telling the truth, and she spent much of the time weighing whether or not she could kill me by drawing a pistol and shooting me."

On this, Lucius was silent.

"Certainly it would not succeed?"

"I've never tested my magic against muggle firearms, Lucius, but watching her mind calculate the physical properties of arrow wards against the kinetic energy of bullets was a thought to behold. That she was doing it _while _giving us the presentation demonstrates a mind that borders on multiple personality disorder, if it weren't all her. Honestly, she could likely think about something else entirely while having sex."

On this, Lucius nodded in bewilderment.

"You seem impressed, my lord, by a mere mudblood."

"_Crucio_," intoned Riddle. "I do believe I informed you not to say that work about her?"

"Ah, r-right, mi-mi'lord. But her presentation, you cannot honestly take it to heart, can you? She must be weighting it in her direction?"

"Of course she slanted it, Lucius. But that doesn't change the content of the presentation. The Granger girl isn't the sort who will lie. She honestly believes that if we declared war on the Muggles, they would win. And she's right, unfortunately."

"You cannot honestly believe that, mi'lord!"

"Lucius, I know you have a brain, please use it. How many muggleborn graduate all the magical schools in Britain each year?"

"Perhaps... thirty or forty?"

"Perhaps in your day, Lucius. This year, it will be around one hundred and forty. How many do you think stay in the wizarding world?"

On this, Lucius fell silent.

"That many?"

"Yes. That many. How many stay in the Wizarding World? Ten? Twenty?"

Lucius nodded.

"Exactly. And generally they're all women who marry into it. Consider that for a moment. Now, I ask you, how many of them would be willing to serve the crown in such a war? The usual number is one in ten, but I'm sure if the muggles put in some effort, they could get one in four or five. thirty people, every year, dedicated to finding us, and wiping us out."

"But there are ways, mi'lord! Spells to destroy them!"

"The muggleborns? Of course. Except they will be protected."

"No, the muggles themselves!"

"Yes. But who can cast them? Myself? Dumbledore? Who else?"

On this, Lucius fell silent.

"Precisely, Lucius. And who can use their weapons? _Anyone_. That is our quandary, Lucius. They can choke us with sheer numbers, and use those we have cast out and thrown aside to hunt us down like cattle. And do not forget the number of light-sided wizard that would flock to their banner if it was I, Voldemort, leading the charge against them."

At this, Lucius nodded.

"No, such an attempt would leave a wasteland of corpses. There are other ways of ruling the muggle world. Granger has provided us a warning. We are going to have to remove some of the more dangerous elements of our own ranks."

"Remove?"

"Yes, Lucius. _Remove_. Some of them are to mentally unstable. Their own arrogance has damaged their minds. Yes Severus?"

At this, the door opened, and Severus Snape stood with a goblet of potion.

"The potion you have asked for, mi'lord."

"Thank you, Severus. Place it on the table. Lucius, if you would fetch your sister-in-law?"

"Of course, mi'lord," said Lucius, standing to leave.

"And I do hope you consider what I've stated?"

Lucius froze, and realize what the Dark Lord was stating.

"Yes, mi'lord. I understand."

"Excellent, Lucius. I knew I could count on you. Come up with some ideas on what to do. And Lucius?"

"Yes, mi'lord?"

"Play to your strengths."

"Of course, mi'lord." With that, Lucius left to find Bellatrix.

"Bellatrix, mi'lord?"

"Yes. Bellatrix," said Riddle, eyeing the potion distastefully. "You may leave, Severus."

"Of course, mi'lord."

0x0x0x0

While he refused to admit it, he would have liked to have brought the cane. He didn't like using it, mostly because Lily would, well, _mother_ him. She'd hover, and ask if he was alright. He didn't mind it so much, except she was so _constant_. So he ditched the cane, and toughed it out with his usual "I'm fine" and a lot of private wincing.

He did, also, begin teaching Sunstripe and Azalea. He'd started in the Room of Requirements. Mostly because it was the best room for the job.

It was August 5th before they left Hogwarts, because the adults were busy rewarding the house. It was something of an "all hands on deck" situation. Lily, Remus, and Dumbledore were the primary warders, with James and Sirius backing them up. Everyone roomed in the Gryffindor dorms since nearly everybody knew where it was.

"You're not really fine, are you?" asked Azalea.

At this, Rex shrugged. He was sitting on the lawn, any number of his muscles complaining at the mere fact he'd been standing so long.

"No, I'm fine. It just hurts, that's all."

"Then why aren't you lying down in bed?"

"Because I go stir crazy. Let's see your shield charm again."

"Right. _Protego_."

Harry examined the shield spell, then nodded.

"Alright. Both of you have it down. Now I want you to work on how quick you can cast it."

Which is, of course, when the splitting headache hit him, and the scar opened up full bore.

"_Foolish woman!_ Do you think I care about that? Take the potion!" shouted Riddle. He was in some sort of room, with two high wing-backed chairs, pacing and gesticulating wildly. Bellatrix was on her knees, on the carpet, and a clear potion with a green tinge was sitting on the table. Harry could feel the waves of rage that had finally broken the barrier between them, and now the distinct sadness, the guilt and shame that somehow also carried across the link.

"Please, My Lord! Please! Anything but that! _Anything!_"

"Then go and kill yourself! You're no use to me now!"

"I can still fight, My Lord!"

"I have fighters! I have soldiers! I have more expendable and disposable minions than I know what to do with! There is, however, only one Bellatrix Black. I. Want. Her. Back."

"Please, My Lord. Please. You don't know my crime."

"I know full well your crime, Bellatrix. And I now know full well the result of bringing her to term."

"Her?"

"Yes, _her_."

"H-how?"

"She would have been born on July 31st, Bella. And I would have suspected _her_ as the subject of the prophecy."

"H-how?"

"Take the potion, regain your mind, and I will tell you."

Bellatrix looked up at the potion. She pulled herself to her feet, and took hold of it. She gave one last look to Riddle, one full of desperation, and pain, and horror, and, somewhere, guilt. She downed the entire potion in one go, and let the goblet clatter to the table. She collapsed to the ground, and began to shiver.

And then Riddle did something Harry never expected him to do.

He sat down next to her, cross-legged, and pulled Bellatrix into his lap. He began to rock, back and forth, humming softly, as the shivers turned into shakes, and then into nearly a seizure. Bellatrix's skin began to turn an oily black, and Harry watched her clothing stain black, the substance ruining the clothing, and staining Riddle's hands as he cradled her. Harry could feel an itching on his hands, and realized it was the substance burning Riddle's hands. Whatever it was, it had the consistency of tar, and Harry felt a twinge of disgust when he realized Bellatrix was _sweating_ it.

"Let it out," whispered Riddle, as Bellatrix forced herself up, and vomited the black, chunky, tar onto the carpet. It seemed to leech strength from her, as well, as she collapsed once more into Riddle's lap.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I as well, my snake." He reached under her, lifting her up as though she were as light as a feather, and began to carry her from the room. "Let's get you cleaned up, and get you some rest. And then we'll talk."

And with that, Harry finally managed to shake himself from the vision.

0x0x0x0

Harry still occasionally wished he had the cane, when he stepped out of Lily's car into a neighborhood in Greater Hangleton. He wasn't quite certain how he would describe the neighborhood. It certainly wasn't affluent, and definitely not as uniform as Privet Dr. Perhaps he would best describe it as "pleasant." Sirius had joined them as well, wanting to know why Harry was giving away Bellatrix's portrait.

And given he was in Greater Hangleton, he half expected Voldemort to pop out from behind a rock and go "Boo," or maybe "_avada kedava_." He wasn't sure, and it was a rather unsettling feeling. He considered the portrait that Sirius was carrying once more, thinking of the... _scene_ between Riddle and Bellatrix. He hadn't known Riddle was capable. And he realized there was a lot of things he didn't know about Riddle.

"Harry! It's good to see you!" said Rachel.

"Hello, Rachel," he said.

"So just so you know, I did get my parents to pick up a snake, simply because it's wicked."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this.

"Don't worry, I'm just kidding. So you must be Lily?"

"And you must be Rachel Marx, right?" asked Lily.

"That's right. Hello, Professor. Is everything alright?" asked Rachel, wondering why her Professor was staring at her so oddly.

"Hello, Rachel. We're outside of class, you don't need to call me Professor. Sirius is just fine, although 'Hey, you' works just as well."

"Alright, Sirius. Harry, come on, Hermione's already here, along with most of the others."

Sirius watched Rachel drag Harry off into the house.

"He has a way with people," commented Lily.

"True, true," commented Sirius. "I knew that girl looked familiar. Should have realized it sooner, really."

"Who? Rachel? You do know you have her in your classes, right?"

"Oh, I know. Not what I'm talking about, though."

"Does it have anything to do with the obvious portrait that you've brought along?"

"No, nothing at all," replied Sirius, moving the wrapped package to directly behind himself, even if the corners of it stuck up over his shoulders.. "Why do you ask?"

"You've always been a terrible liar, Sirius."

"To you, maybe. I'll have you know, I can charm just about anybody."

"Of that, I'm more than certain," replied Lily. "We should introduce ourselves to the Marx's, come on."

Upon meeting the Marx's, it was readily apparent Rachel was adopted. Both of the Marxes had straight blonde hair, and were shorter and heavy set, compared to Rachel's black-as-night hair and tall, thin body. Their faces were soft, while hers were sharp and defined. It was obvious they were a family, though, sporting the same easy smile.

Sirius and Lily introduced themselves, and learned Rachel's parents were Abraham and Miriam Marx, while Hermione and Rachel introduced Harry to a number of the students that Harry was only peripherally acquaintances of.

"Is it true you fought You-Know-Who?" asked Wayne Hopkins.

"I wouldn't call being curcio'd into unconsciousness 'fighting,'" replied Harry.

"You hit him with a spell!" said Wayne.

"It was just an expelliarmus," said Harry, shrugging.

"Why expelliarmus?" asked Wayne. "Why not something like _reducto_ or _tonare_?"

"Expelliarmus is point and cast. _Reducto_ and _tonare _both have motions to them, and I was barely able to move my hand at that point. Now enough about me, it's Rachel's birthday. We have to focus on her."

With only a little bit of sheepish grumbling, everybody went back to the party, and stopped focusing on Harry.

"That was really brave, what you did," said Susan Bones.

"I was scared out of my mind," replied Harry. "I just didn't want people getting killed."

"I was scared out of my mind just watching it happen," said Susan. "I just wanted to say thanks." She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, before heading back to the group. Harry stood, surprised at the unexpected affection. Hermione waved him over.

"So, Susan Bones?" she asked as he took a seat next to her.

At this, Harry shrugged.

"Who did you date?" she asked.

"There was a very bad date with Cho Chang, I think."

"You think?"

"Well... it was a very _bad_ date, then. She was mostly crying over Cedric Diggory."

"Cedric?" asked Hermione. "Why, did he break up with her?"

"No. He was murdered."

Hermione blanched at that.

"So we never dated?" she asked, changing the subject.

"No. Ron was interested, actually."

"Ron? Ron Weasley? Why would I be interested in him?"

"I said _Ron_ was interested. The three of us were friends. It was after the Yule ball. Who did you go with?"

"Er- I didn't go, actually."

"You didn't? Who did Viktor Krum go with?"

"Rachel? Why? Wait, you mean... he went with _me_?"

Harry nodded.

"You didn't tell either of us who you were going with, until you showed up on his arm. You were wearing this blue periwinkle dress that left the pair of us speechless."

"Who did you go with?"

"Parvati," replied Harry. "Left it until the last minute, really. I asked Cho, but she was already going with Cedric. I should have gone with Luna. That would have made an impression. I wish I'd known her then."

"You didn't ask me?"

"Actually, Ron asked you, running under the assumption that nobody had asked you. I think his exact words were, 'Hey, Hermione, you're a girl, right? Go to the ball with me.'"

"He didn't," asked Hermione

Harry nodded.

"Oh, god. I can actually see him doing that." Rarely did Hermione wish to smash her head against the table. She didn't give in to it, but she at least put her forehead on the table in front of her.

"I know," said Harry

"So what are you two talking about?" asked Rachel, walking up to them with a glass of punch.

"Ron Weasley," groaned out Hermione.

"Really? Weasley? Why?"

"We were friends," said Harry.

"I'm sorry," said Rachel. "I think the only person who likes him is Lavender."

"I can actually see that," commented Harry, thinking about it. "Next year is going to be weird."

"Why? Because you won't be friends with Ron?"

"No. Because Neville won't be there."

"Neville Longbottom?" asked Rachel. Hermione gave her a look. "He asked about him."

"Yeah."

"I know the Longbottoms, I don't know anything about Neville, though."

"He's dead," said Harry. "Killed in an attack after Voldemort's demise..." Harry stopped, then looked at Rachel.

"What?" asked Rachel.

"You're probably going to hate me for you birthday present. Just so you know, only Sirius knows what it is, and he's probably guessed why I'm giving it to you by this point."

"This had better be some birthday present," said Rachel.

"It's... a surprising birthday present," said Harry, finally.

"Now I really want you to open it," said Hermione. "You will open it with me around, won't you?"

"It's your choice," said Harry. "It might be a good idea to have a friend with you."

Rachel nodded, then stopped.

"Harry, you do realize you're one of my friends, right?"

"I won't be sure of that until you talk to me after opening the present," replied Harry.

"Fine then. I'm opening the present with you there. That's final."

At this, Harry shrugged. _Might as well get her hatred of me over with_.

The rest of the party passed with little incident, although Rachel regularly made fun of Harry as Susan Bones "made eyes" at him. He didn't see it, himself, but both of the girls were smarter than him. He didn't argue.

As the other guests filtered out, all of Rachel's other presents opened, they picked up the final gift from Sirius, and Hermione dragged Harry upstairs while Sirius played distraction for the Marx's and the Grangers, while Lily watched on.

Harry walked into a pastel yellow room, littered with posters, books, and make-up, holding the wrapped portrait frame.

"Well? Set it down," said Rachel.

Harry put it on the floor, and leaned it against her dresser. He wasn't sure, now.

He decided that he might as well get this over with, and tapped his wand against it with a whispered _finite_. The wrapping paper vanished, and the silencing charm fell, to reveal a woman with lightly curled black hair, and familiar violet eyes.

"Hello, daughter," said the woman in the painting. Rachel stared at it, for a long moment, then fell to her knees, examining every detail.

"Is it... you're really my mother?" asked Rachel.

"Not truly, but... enough. An imprint of her. Enough to know who she was, and to know she loved you. What has Potter told you?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. He's been playing coy, like I'd hate you all night."

"I imagine he would, given who your father is."

"Is?" asked Rachel. "I don't even know who you are."

"My name, my daughter, is Bellatrix LeStrange. When you were born, I named you Lyra Cassiopeia LeStrange. I understand your adopted parents named you Rachel?"

"Er... yes. Weren't you, well, a Death Eater?" asked Rachel, standing up.

"Yes, I was. I learned, long after, that there are more important things than the purity of blood, my daughter."

"And what's that?"

"The blood itself. Family. Something, I regret to say, your father never entirely understood," said Bellatrix with a sad sigh.

"And he died fighting the Longbottoms, right Harry?"

"No," said Harry. "Her husband did, though."

On this, Rachel was silent.

"Then... who is my father?"

"Your father was a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle," said Bellatrix. "Better known as the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Rachel, stood, stumbled backwards, and fell back onto her bed. Hermione sat down next to her, wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

"That's why I can speak to snakes, isn't it?" asked Rachel, of Harry.

"Yeah," replied Harry.

"You're a parselmouth?" asked Bellatrix, looking pointedly at Harry.

"Got it from this," said Harry tapped his forehead. "My mum ended up the same way as you, Bellatrix."

At this, Bellatrix nodded, slowly, digesting that information.

"You mean... he tried to kill me?" asked Rachel.

"He tried," said Bellatrix. "There was a prophecy. He didn't know the whole thing, but it stated someone born on July 31st who defeat him, and the mother would have defied him three times."

"Why you? Weren't you his most trusted follower?"

"Yes, and I stated the prophecy was foolishness. I even told him _I_ had defied him three times." Harry raised an eyebrow at that. He'd have to ask Riddle.

Rachel sat quietly, Hermione's arm over her shoulder, while Harry stood off to the side. Rachel threw Hermione's arm off, and walked over to Harry.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"While this isn't the best present ever, I want to thank you for it. Knowing who my mother is, having a link to my past, even if I don't like it, is something special." She pulled him into a hug. After that, she slapped him. Hard.

"And that was for failing to understand that a girl doesn't want to know she's the daughter of the Dark Lord. Just know that I don't hate you, I am thankful for knowing these things, and that you are still my friend. I do expect a real present, though."

"There is also an ulterior motive to his actions, as well," added Bellatrix.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"You have... well, can _get_ one of the keys to the Dark Lord's immortality, so that it can be destroyed."

At this, Rachel fell silent.

"There's also the rather large amount of money you inherited from me, as well," added Bellatrix.

Rachel's eyes widened at that remark.

"Well... I guess that counts as a good gift."

**Author's Note:** This is a little longer than usual, but I wanted that title to work. It doesn't work very well, but it works.

I'd also like to state that this is going to be, for the most part, the end of the Wizards vs. Muggles debate. Hermione thinks they'd flatten the Wizarding World, while the only wizard that's being honest with himself thinks the best the could do would be mutually assured destruction.

**EDIT 5/8/2012**: The Marx's now have names. Because holy shit, they just showed up as human beings in the next chapter. I was planning on having them be un-important, but they just started connecting with people. It was rather surprising.


	21. Chapter 21: The Gathering of Tools

**Chapter 21: The Gathering of Tools**

**Note: **Because of this chapter, the Marx's have been retconned into having names. I don't know how much they'll show up, but their names are now Abraham and Miriam.

0x0x0x0

"13 inches, yew with a phoenix feather core," said Ollivander, bent over his desk, scribbling into his ledger. "I warn you now, I have but one wand that will work for you, and it has been hidden."

The Dark Lord stood just inside the door of the shop, having walked in behind the last customers of the day, and watched them leave.

"Just one?" asked the Dark Lord.

"Just one," replied Ollivander. "And, as I said, it is hidden. And it is, perhaps, the only wand you can make use of to retrieve your old one."

"Dumbledore warned you, did he?"

"He did indeed," replied Ollivander. "He asked if I needed help, and I replied I did. I said I needed him to cast one spell, and only one spell. And he cast that one spell."

"The fidelius," said the Dark Lord.

"Correct. Albus is it's secret keeper, and I am aware of the secret. And you do not have the time to research the potions and rituals required to beat the information out of me."

"You wish to trade."

"Correct once more. Your wand in exchange for an unbreakable vow of my safety from your followers."

"You will not aide Dumbledore?"

"I will be a neutral party in this conflict, just as I was in the last one, and the one before that. I will only do what I always do. Supply wands. Your vow?"

"The binder?"

"Will be _I_," whispered a woman's voice in a thick Russian accent.. Voldemort watched a one-eyed hag step from Ollivander's back room, smiling at him with very few teeth.

Voldemort was silent a moment. It was not often he made deals with devils. Except he didn't have a choice.

Once the oath was made, Ollivander went into his back room, and retrieved a long narrow box.

"Holly and Phoenix Feather, 11 and a half inches." With that, Ollivander handed him the wand, and Voldemort gave it a careful flick, motes of red and silver spread out from its tip.

He smiled.

"Ollivander, your services are, as always, impeccable and impressive."

Ollivander watched Voldemort leave.

"Thank you, daughter," said Ollivander.

A much younger woman was putting a glass eye back into her empty socket.

"Your welcome, father, and good luck," she said, still in a thick Russian accent. And with that, she disappeared, a curl of smoke whisping up from the floor.

Ollivander nodded at the smoke, and went back to work. There were wands to be made and sold. He hadn't been in business since 382 BC by being lazy, after all.

0x0x0x0

Rachel had gone from sitting on the bed, to flopped backwards on it, staring up at the ceiling. It was well past midnight, and Hermione was still quizzing the portrait. Her mother's portrait. And her father was the Dark Lord.

Well, she was occasionally curious about who her parents were. She supposed they had to be someone. She just rather wished they were someone else.

She'd been afraid to talk to Sirius. Sirius, however, refused to allow her to leave without a hug, and a rather simple "Welcome to the family, Rachel. I'll introduce you to the good parts of it soon enough."

The good parts of it.

She'd asked Bellatrix about that.

"I presume she's talking about my sister Andromeda. She was disowned for marrying a muggleborn."

"Disowned for marrying a muggleborn?" asked Rachel.

"Yes. She was arranged for marriage to Eustace Fudge, as I recall, and decided to follow her heart, rather than our mother's commandments. I did the same, in the end, although I suppose this is my punishment for being an adulteress. They would have disowned Sirius, if his father wasn't already dead. He's now head of the Black family, much to my other sister Narcissa's dismay."

"Narcissa?"

"Yes, Narcissa Malfoy. I recall she has a son about your age? Draco, I think?"

"Oh, god, Draco Malfoy's my _cousin_?"

And that, perhaps, was the worst part. She was related to Draco Malfoy, the annoying little snot. And she was now, officially, a halfblood. Well, three-quarters-blood, but that just meant halfblood.

"Life was so much simpler before I turned eleven," commented Rachel.

"Yes, but now you have more family," commented back Bellatrix, before returning to her conversation with Hermione. Rachel shook her head at that. Hermione considered this a learning experience. Then again, she considered everything a learning experience. Rachel was always impressed by Hermione's endless enthusiasm for new knowledge. The girl was a sponge. And when she found someone who was willing to help her learn how to be sociable, she leapt at it. Especially after Rachel saved her from a troll.

And now there was Harry. The new Harry, not the old one. The old one was annoying, to both of them. He seemed to think everything and everyone should be his friend. Hermione, Rachel learned, found him to be to similar to the boys who called her bookworm, beaver-face, and bucktooth back in primary. Rachel found him to be too similar to the arrogant, selfish rich-kids she went to private school with.

This Harry (Rex, Sirius called him, as though he were a dog), was nothing like his doppelganger. He wasn't arrogant, he wasn't annoying, he wasn't anything like that at all. He was nice. He was cute, although he didn't seem aware of it, he also had a confidence in what he did that she'd never really seen before. Then again, he got that confidence by doing things no sane person should have to deal with. And it was obvious it'd damaged him, physically and emotionally.

So she thought about it, and decided she'd try being his friend first. And maybe, at some point, there might be something. She'd take her time, though.

"Bellatrix?" asked Rachel.

"Yes?" replied Bellatrix, having finally dropped the "my daughter"s from her speech.

"The thing in the vault. What is it?"

On this, Bellatrix was silent for a time, before she replied.

"Evil," replied Bellatrix. "Do not touch it. Merely remove it, and allow someone you care very little for dispose of it. Perhaps a Weasley. There's plenty of them, as I recall. I doubt their mother would notice."

"I don't think I'd trust a Weasley with watching a pet rock, let alone destroying something preventing Voldemort from dying."

"This is true," commented Bellatrix.

"So what actually is it?" asked Hermione.

"I don't entirely know," replied Bellatrix. "It was something I didn't want my portrait to know. I know it's important, however, and I know it must be destroyed. And I know it is evil, and that I did not like it when I knew what it was."

"Harry knows what it is," said Rachel.

"He does," replied Bellatrix.

A nervous silence fell over them for a few minutes, before Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Hermione, ask your next question. I don't have anything else to say."

"Thank you!" said Hermione, and turned back to Bellatrix.

_Family_, she thought. _Real, bloody family. And I still have to tell my parents._

Rachel gave a low groan that went unnoticed.

0x0x0x0

"Explaining everything to my family wasn't too bad," said Rachel.

"I rather imagine it wasn't," said Andromeda Tonks. "I'm sure they suspected something as soon as they saw Sirius. He generally is rather suspicious."

"Pretty much," replied Rachel. "I think they were worried there was an arranged marriage or something."

"No, the wizarding world may be backwards, but not _that_ backwards. Some of the more aristocratic families decide marriages for their children, but it's never before the age of fifteen at this point. Which, really, isn't much better."

"So that's why you left?"

"Oh, yes. I was paired with Ted for an Herbology project in fourth year, and he was a sort of charming I didn't generally see. I spent the first three months after seventh year sleeping on his parent's couch before I got into healer's training on Poppy's recommendation. Once I was in, I was in. And once I graduated at the top of the class, I had either the choice of a private practice, research, or St. Mungo's. I went with a private practice, while Ted went and became a solicitor. He's one of the few that works in the muggle world, and he's the only good one, so he has a fairly high demand."

"Did you ever go into muggle medical school?" asked Rachel.

"I'm actually a registered nurse," said a surprised Andromeda. "Why?"

"Well, it seems I'm taking after you. I'm apprenticing under Poppy in the infirmary. It's actually how I first met Harry."

Andromeda nodded, and began asking her questions about Poppy's internship, while Sirius smiled from across the table.

"This little family meet and greet seems to be a good idea," said Sirius.

"I guess," replied Rex. Sunstripe and James were talking with each other quietly, while Azalea was following Ted and Abraham's conversation.

"Don't worry, I'm sure their not discussing you. Andi doesn't know you that well."

Harry shrugged. Ted and Abraham were also getting along well. From what he gathered, it seemed they were both solicitors. While Ted performed transactions between the muggle and wizarding world, Abraham did a fair amount of transactions amongst the various rich that lived in the county around Greater Hangleton. It seemed the Riddles weren't the only rich family in the area. At a guess, they were discussing the differences in law between wizarding and muggle worlds, and whether or not they knew any of the same judges.

Miriam was chatting with Lily about raising a wizarding daughter.

"You'll see a fair amount of polite bigotry," commented Lily. "And a fair amount of not-so-polite bigotry, as well. In school, it didn't matter that I was the top of the classes, or a prefect, or the head girl. My parents were muggles, and I was the uppity mudblood."

"Business as usual, then," commented Miriam. "For the longest time, the locals thought we were Jerries. My father visited us, after my my mother died, and he had a shouting match with one of the grocers over the price of something. They were over-charging us, and he noticed. He was so angry when the grocer called him a Jerry. He pulled up his sleeve. It was the first time I ever saw the numbers tattooed onto his arm. He always kept them covered. He was my father, and I never knew. He screamed at the grocer, 'Do you see this? Do you see these numbers? The Nazis killed my father and mother, they killed my brothers and sisters, they killed my first wife, and they killed my son,' he shouted at them. I never even knew my father had re-married, or that he'd had a son before my brother. And he just shouted it at the grocer. The grocer was horrified, even as my father just kept shouting at him. At some point he slipped into yiddish, and then he just broke down. We had to take him home, and the grocer helped us out into the car. The next time we visited town, it was like a light was flipped. Everyone had heard about my father, a few even asked if he was alright."

"The same thing happened when I married James," said Lily. "Suddenly, I wasn't Lily Evans, anymore. I was Lily Potter, and that meant I was someone. Suddenly, I could get my charms mastery, I was paying less in stores, and it was all because I was a Potter, and part of an old family. And people wonder why so many just outright leave this world behind.

"I'm going to tell you right now, Rachel will get farther in this world, if she uses the name LeStrange, rather than the name Marx. Or she could go by Black, and let the LeStrange name die in England. It's not like she's actually related to any of them. I know Sirius has been turning the name around for the last ten years."

"I know," commented Miriam. "It's just hard. It feels like I'm slowly losing her, even though I know I'm not."

"My parents felt the same way, but I always tried to include them, and be with them. My parents died shortly before I graduated, though. And I'm estranged from my sister. That's one thing I don't know if you should be thankful for or not. You don't have any other children."

"Jealousy?" she asked.

"As near as I know, yes. She so desperately wanted to be magical, and that's not how it works. So she hates me, now."

"Jealousy is always the worst emotion," said Miriam. "So, young man, just how did you know who our daughter's parents were?"

"Rachel explained how I got here?" asked Rex. Lily was curious, because Rex was nervous nearly the entire night. She knew Rex and Rachel weren't dating, although she did recall the kiss Susan Bones gave him at the party. The lock of surprise was amusing, although his confusion as to why anybody would want to kiss him wasn't endearing in any way shape or form.

"Yes. Something straight out of science fiction, I hear."

"Rachel isn't in my original universe. I came across the portrait of her mother at Sirius' parents place, and she looked familiar. There's also a tapestry there, that keeps track of Sirius' family. When I saw her mother had a daughter, well, I put two and two together."

"And what about her father?"

"Her father murdered her mother," replied Rex, carefully.

"Ah. Not the best type of person, is he?"

"No. No he is not," replied Rex.

Lily knew there was an unspoken agreement to not say the Dark Lord was Rachel's father. Very much so unspoken.

"So you and Rachel are taking a trip to the bank after this?"

Rex nodded.

"There's an item that needs to be destroyed in Rachel's mother's vault," said Rex. "It belongs to her father, and is heavily cursed. That, and there's apparently a large amount of money."

"No more exchanging money at that ludicrous exchange rate?" asked Miriam. "Well, we'll wait here, why don't you lot be off, hmm?"

"Alright," said Rex, standing. He looked to Rachel, who also stood up, still talking to Andromeda. Sirius pulled himself away from James, and then straightened his robes.

"Right then, arrogant faces on ladies and gentlemen. We are now the pureblooded elite, and we will stand for none of anyone's foolishness."

Andromeda nodded, her facing changing from the loving smile to a haughty mask.

"Lord Black, shall we?"

"Of course, my dear cousin. My other dear cousin, shall we?"

Miriam and Abraham watched as Rachel examined Andromeda, before assuming a similar haughty mask of disdain.

"If we must, my dear cousin. Come along Aunt Andromeda, Mister Potter," said Rachel. Miriam smirked, while Abraham shook his head as they left.

"How does she do that?" asked James.

"A lot of my customers are old-blooded rich out around Greater Hangleton. She looks exactly like a lot of their sons and daughters when they see Rachel," said Abraham. "Oh, the look on her face." He sighed. "She's going to have a fair amount of fun."

0x0x0x0

"Harry?" asked Rachel, examining the bank in the same way one might examine a piece of roadkill.

"Yes?" replied Harry, not knowing how to put up a mask of arrogance and disdain, and gone for one of stoney emotionless.

"Why does Sirius call you Rex?"

"Sirius and James are animagi," replied Harry. "When they were in school, they used nicknames to cover up they were behind pranks. They gave themselves nicknames after becoming animagi."

"So you're an animagi, as well?"

"I have the option of becoming one. The names are somewhat indicative of form. Sirius is Padfoot, a large black dog, while James is Prongs, a stag."

"And you and other Harry?"

"I'm Rex, because I'm a king, while Harry is Sunstripe, a honey badger of all things."

"Is his wand Hornbeam?" asked Rachel.

"Yes, although I don't get why Lily made that comment as well."

"Nothing, nothing. Just some books Hermione lent me between first and second year. So what's it mean 'you're a king'? I don't know any dogs that can be called kings."

"I'm not a dog, Rachel. Think about it this way. What can I do because of my scar."

"You can talk to... oh. Oh! Wow. King. Yeah. Alright. And Rex means everybody whose in the know thinks you're a dog."

"Right."

"So... are you planning on actually learning the change?"

"I don't know," replied Harry. "Probably not. Personally, I think it's too dangerous."

At this, Rachel nodded in understanding. They both followed Sirius and Andromeda up to a teller, and there was a hushed conversation with the teller in angry tones, before they followed them out back. A quick test of Rachel's blood revealed that she was, in fact, Lyra Cassiopeia Black. She wasn't a LeStrange by virtue of not having a father on the LeStrange side.

Her key was dispensed, and the four of them road down to Rachel's vault. When the cart came to a halt, they began to follow a surly goblin to the vault.

"So what are you going to do with your extra name?" asked Andromeda.

"Well, the way Lily explained it, being Lyra Black does grease the wheels of commerce," said Rachel.

"This is definitely true," commented Andromeda. "I know things have been harder on me for being a Tonks, rather than a Black. There are more important things than a name."

"Family," said Rachel, stepping back when she realized there was an ancient albino dragon laying in front of her vault.

"Right in one," said Sirius, completely ignoring the dragon. "And here we are. Miss Black, the vault of Bellatrix LeStrange."

Rachel nodded, and handed off the key.

They watched as the Goblin undid lock after lock, and removed curse after curse form the vault.

"Alright, Harry. What are we looking for?" asked Rachel, stepping into the vault. She frowned at the many and varied implements.

"That cup, up there," said Harry, pointing at the small golden cup on a ledge.

"That's it?"

Harry nodded.

"Huh. Not a very big cursed object. So what exactly is it?"

"It's a piece of Voldemort's soul, that he tore off himself."

Rachel frowned.

"Why?"

"So if his body dies, he doesn't go on. He stays as a wraith."

"Oh," replied Rachel. "So this is one of those 'destroy at all costs' sorts of things."

"Yes."

"Skullcleaver?" shouted Rachel, looking to the goblin that guided them down. He stepped into the vault.

"Yes, Miss Black?" the goblin ground out.

"How much does it cost to have that dragon back there melt this cup into slag?"

Skullcleaver blinked at the request.

"Four galleons," he replied.

"Right then," said Rachel, picking up one of the swords hanging on the walls, and hooking the cup through one of the handles. "Harry, grab four galleons and pay the goblin. Skullcleaver, where do I set this down?"

"Not yet," said Harry.

"Why?"

"Because we don't know if he'll know, and he made more than one."

Rachel fell silent.

"Can we come back and do this?" asked Rachel.

The Goblin nodded.

"Good. I take it you've built up a collection?"

"Yes. If you want to know, we can talk about it back at Lily and James' place."

"Right then." Rachel grabbed a pile of coins and dropped it into a bag. "I suppose this means I can't go on a shopping spree quite yet, then."

At this, Harry frowned.

"No, I don't think so," said Harry, questioning the sanity of the female species.

**Author's Notes:** And that's another Horcrux down, and how they're going to get rid of them. Because I hate Voldemort's Horcruxes, because they are the most _annoying thing in the world_. I understand that Harry has to perform a quest. I understand there had to be a method to which Voldemort survived.

A little late on the upload, but oh well.

Next time, more conversationalizing between Harry and Riddle!


	22. Chapter 22: Back and Forth

**Chapter 22: Back and Forth**

Dumbledore placed the letter from Ollivander back on the desk, and leaned back in his chair.

As expected, Voldemort had retrieved a holly and phoenix-feather wand. One that was exactly the same as Potter's own.

Dumbledore was silent, as he attempted to divine the implications of this. Harry's plan was rather obvious, and Dumbledore considered it at least a respectable idea. How Harry would cause it to happen was another question entirely.

He sighed, attempting to divine the method, but failed. So he drifted back to the other remembrances of the boy. Silver strands were dropped into a stone bowl, the mixture swirling and coalescing. Dumbledore entered the memory.

"_That's what Riddle calls me, too_," stood out in the memory.

A strange utterance. And a comparison, Dumbledore decided, between himself and Tom. Odd, but not the first time it had happened to him. Severus used it on him whenever he got a little to deep into manipulations. And, perhaps, testing him with the Sorting Hat was a little harsh.

He'd spoken with the Weasley twins about Harry's comments to Voldemort, and they had even contributed the memory so he could get the precise wording.

"_I wanted to know... my mother, when you killed her, asked you to spare my life. To take hers instead. Did Bellatrix do the same?_"

Dumbledore considered those words.

"_Did Bellatrix do the same?_"

Bellatrix LeStrange died with the dark lord. They died in Little Hangleton, and it was, in fact, the muggles would found them. The old Riddle house was the building. Bellatrix wasn't in the war for the last two years of it, even though she was one of the Tom's better duelists.

Harry's mother died for him. Did Bellatrix do the same?

Who could it-

Dumbledore opened the drawer to his desk, and examined the records contained within.

Rachel Marx. Her current residence was Greater Hangleton.

Why didn't he realize it sooner?

She was his savior. Not Potter. Except she was a healer, and what use was a healer against a Dark Lord? Then again, what use was a barely trained, malnourished school-boy? He would have trained the boy. He would have done everything he could do, to ensure the boy would survive the war. He was the savior of the wizarding world, wasn't he? Why had he left the boy in such terrible hands?

"_Rachel mentioned a diary that she handed you. That Ginny had. It belonged to him. What happened to it?_"

Harry was drawn to Rachel. Did he know who she was? Did some part of him figure it out? Why did he ask for the diary?

Unless... he knew what it was, and knew it needed to be destroyed. And then the missing object in the Gaunt shack suddenly made sense. Except how did Harry know?

The pensive returned to its first memory, "_That's what Riddle calls me, too._"

Calls. Not called.

Was there a connection between them? Some sort of mental link that crossed even the vast, empty gulf between existences? Albus had already put quite a bit of effort into seeing if there was a way to undo what Tom did to this Harry, and the answer was "only if there was an existing link, and enough power to drain the wards of Hogwarts." And, now, perhaps, there was an existing link.

Tom would have used Harry's death to make a Horcrux. That wasn't a question in Dumbledore's mind. Combined with his own destruction, would a piece of his soul latch onto the boy? Was that what the scar was? There were rumors of it opening up and bleeding, and it did not seem properly healed in any way, shape, or form.

The scar was a Horcrux. What, then, was his counter-part's plan? No, he'd divine it later. Worry about the now, rather than the past. He couldn't do anything about the past, as interesting a mental diversion as it was. If Harry was used in much the same way Alastor was, then Tom would have been resurrected with Harry's blood.

"_My original... he didn't hate me. He told me that. He considered me an annoyance, a loose end. The person he hated was my mother._"

The loose end. In his arrogance, he could have either allowed or, in his overconfidence, not expected Harry to escape. It seemed reasonable.

There were to many ifs, however. He'd have to ask.

Well, the Potters were still good friends of his. He'd floo them and ask when he had time.

0x0x0x0

Albus Dumbledore's hands shook as he read the letter from the Board of Governors.

Ever since Potter's disappearance, everything was falling apart. The Ministry had all but fallen to Lucius Malfoy and his cronies, although very little had changed by this point. Fudge was replaced by Pius Thicknesse, although the Death Eaters had launched very few physical raids.

It was to be expected, given what happened. That was not what terrified him.

Instead, it was the letter. Certainly, there were good points, a Wizarding Studies class for the muggleborns, so that they knew the culture and value of the world around them. An improved Muggle Studies class was in the works, being put together by Miss Granger and Madam Longbottom was certainly a delight. That Severus remained his Potions Master annoyed him, given his betrayal. No, what horrified him was the selection for his final teacher.

His Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

0x0x0x0

"Withdrawal, or another attempt to claim vault 83?" said the goblin teller, not even looking up from his desk at Lucius Malfoy.

"Attempt? Try success," said Malfoy, placing a ream of parchment on the Goblin's desk. "Signed by the Minister, and backed by the Wizengamot."

The goblin picked up the parchment, and without even glancing at it, dropped it into a nearby trash bin.

Malfoy would have pulled his wand, if it weren't for the four security goblins he knew were ready to kill him from behind.

"And just why have you destroyed what would have forced you to hand over the vault?" asked Malfoy.

"The vault was claimed last week," replied the goblin. He picked up a ruby and examined it, before adding it to a pile of them in front of him.

"The vault. Was claimed? By who?"

"By the listed beneficiary," replied the goblin, taking a form from inside of his desk, and beginning to fill it out.

"And who is the listed beneficiary?" asked Lucius.

The goblin handed him the form.

"Fill it out, and pay the fee," replied the Goblin. "NEXT."

"I can fill it out right here, you know."

"No you can't. You need a blood relation to fill out the form. Your wife will do. NEXT."

Lucius didn't harumph, sigh, or growl in annoyance. Instead, he walked out of the bank with as much dignity as he ever did, and went to see his wife.

0x0x0x0

"Hello Madam Bones."

"Lucius Malfoy. To what do I owe this displeasure?" asked Amelia Bones.

"I have come before you with news," replied Lucius.

"I'll only like it if you've given all your money to charity and are turning yourself in, Lucius."

"No, sadly for you, that's not what I'm doing. I am, however, here at _his_ behest."

"I'm not going to be branded like chattel."

"Nor am I going to ask you to be, Madam Bones. Instead, I'm here to inform you that the Dark Lord wants to... clean his house. Remove the worst sorts form his ranks."

Amelia paused a moment.

"Really? And how would he like to do that?"

"Quite simply, through a few failed raids, in a grouping of many. And one of the major targets is you, Madam Bones."

"Me."

"Yes. He has ordered the LeStrange brothers, Walden McNair, and a half-dozen others to attack your home three days from now."

Amelia was silent.

"And how do I know this isn't a trap?"

"You don't, Madam Bones. I am more then certain there is no guarantee I could give you to convince you otherwise. But I will give you this. Augusta Longbottom's home has been declared neutral ground. The Dark Lord gave an unbreakable vow that neither he, nor his followers would directly or indirectly attack her, or her home."

"In other words, Susan would be safe there."

"Yes, quite."

"I trust you as far as I can throw you, Lucius."

"I am well aware, Amelia. He also wants you to be aware, he will either have pardoned or free anyone who does get captured."

"I don't want my men to be murderers."

"Your men will not be murderers, Amelia. They will not even be executioners. They will be putting down rabid, feral dogs that want nothing but to rape and kill. These elements must be removed from our society. When you deposit your niece at Augusta, ask Miss Granger to deliver her presentation. I will freely admit, that it terrified me."

Amelia was surprised by that statement, surprised enough that she said nothing as Lucius left.

"Shacklebolt! O'Malley! Get in here!"

She had work to do.

0x0x0x0

Harry was sitting in the park in Surrey on one of the swings. He could probably actually use the thing, but that wasn't what he was there for.

He was thinking.

There was no arguing that Rachel was a nice girl. That she treated him like a normal human being, even after his fight with Voldemort. But there was the fact that James regularly asked him about girls. And, well, he kind of wanted him to stop.

James suggested he date Rachel, citing she was "quite the looker."

Harry brain came to a full stop on that statement, but he processed it. And he came to the realization that she was, in fact, a "looker." Well, when she wasn't wearing robes. At her birthday party, she was wearing a sundress that left quite a bit less to the imagination than robes did.

He hadn't stared, and in fact, he'd barely noticed, but now that James had mentioned it, it was stuck in his head. And next time he saw her, he knew he _would_ stare.

He sighed, and pushed the thoughts away. It wouldn't do to become attracted to someone at the moment. He had other things to sorry about. Besides, how likely was he to live?

"Little Whinging, Mister Potter?" came Riddle's voice, stepping out from behind the trees near the teeter-totter.

"Needed to do some thinking," said Harry.

"Ah," said Riddle, nodding sagely. "We all have our places to think. Dumbledore has his office, surrounded by knick-knacks and magical items, Lucius has his study, and Severus has his cauldrons."

"What about you?"

Riddle was silent for a moment, as he took a seat in the swing next to Harry.

"There is an unplottable island off the coast of Northern Scotland. There's nothing there except for hares, sheep, and a small cottage. It is... pleasant. And quiet."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"We've got the cup," said Harry, changing the direction of the conversation.

"Oh?"

"Rachel opened the vault."

"Rachel?" asked Riddle.

"Yeah, Bellatrix's daughter."

"Bella's daughter is named _Lyra_, Mister Potter."

"Fine, _Lyra_ opened the vault. We've retrieved the cup. A question for you."

"Yes?"

"Did you notice when the diary as destroyed?"

On this, Riddle fell silent for a moment.

"You destroyed it at the end of your second year, yes? May of 1993?"

"Right."

And for a time, Riddle fell into a deep silence.

"Knowing my connection to you now, I do believe I could recognize the destruction. Otherwise, I am not certain. I presume you've held off on their destruction?"

"We have a plan, we think, on how to destroy them."

"Oh?"

"Dragon's fire," replied Harry. "Four galleons an object, and we can use the Gringott's guard dragons to destroy them."

"Ah, a very good plan. A good idea."

"Don't thank me, thank Lyra."

At this, Riddle nodded, smiling.

"A child after her parents. Speaking of Lyra, Mister Potter, I've placed some thought into how she could fit the prophecy. I have come to only a single conclusion as to the source of Bellatrix's three defiances. They are… amusing, I suppose. Bellatrix defied me… in the bedroom, as it were."

"In the bedroom?" asked Harry, surprised. "How did she… err… defy you there?" It was only after it was spoken, did Harry realize he probably shouldn't have asked that question.

"Mister Potter, you recall my descriptions of her husband's proclivities?"

"I don't need to remember this," muttered Harry, wishing he had the strength to forever force Riddle from his mind. Riddle would torture him without mercy when the mood struck him.

"Because of this, Bellatrix was… displeased with her union with LeStrange. She had her physical pleasures only during her monthly visitor, when LeStrange could, as it were, get it up."

"I definitely don't need to remember this," added Harry. Riddle continued, unabated.

"I took up the pleasures of her flesh without a second thought. She swiftly became much more than a bedwarmer, however. Her intelligence and spark made her my confidant, Mister Potter. She was the one person I could truly talk to, I could truly confide my thoughts, plans, and annoyances in. She was, I suppose, what kept me sane."

Harry thought it best not to mention that he had taken Bellatrix's place in this regard, at least for a little bit. He'd argue the sanity point, however.

"Six months before your birth, I found that she was... drifting away from me. Becoming more moody, more psychotic. Before, I had a confidant. Perhaps you have never met her, but her insanity was obvious. Something in her had changed. Now, I realize what had broken.

"Without her guidance, something that drifted further and further away in the months preceding your birth, I found myself… slipping, I suppose. Coming undone in my mind. Without Bellatrix, I became the madman everyone expected me to be. Without someone I could confide in, someone I could trust, without an outlet for my stress and rage at the fools around me, I could not maintain my civility, my dignity. I became the monster I was portrayed as, and the worst elements of my members followed."

Harry lay quietly and listened to Riddle rant for a few minutes more, before Riddle came back to his original point, hoping it would be better than Riddle's commentary on his sanity.

"So, it is rather amusing that Bellatrix denied me anal sex."

Harry choked. He wasn't sure how that was possible in a dream, but he managed it.

"She WHAT?"

"She threatened to cut off my pecker the third time. Have no doubt, Mister Potter, that the Black woman are a curious and terrifying breed. I have noticed your memories of my daughter's derriere, and I assure you, it will only become more refined with age, Mister Potter. Can you not blame a man for wanting to pluck such a ripe and tender fruit?"

"I don't know which is worse. That you're serious, or that you died because Bellatrix didn't put out."

"Oh, I assure you, Mister Potter, Bellatrix 'put out.' She was a delectable minx, and I enjoyed her on a very regular basis."

0x0x0x0

Lily was surprised to encounter Rex, awake, sitting at the kitchen table, with a glass of tea on the table.

"Harry?" she asked.

"Yes, Lily?"

Lily sighed, and decided she'd try something.

"You know you can call me Mum, right?"

Harry was silent, staring at his tea.

"I'm sorry if I'm being forward, but I felt like it needed to actually be said. You don't have to if you don't want to, but you can call me Mum, and James Dad."

Lily realized his face had become that same emotionless mask he so commonly sported whenever something was trying to overtake him.

"Harry... it's also alright to let us see your emotions. We won't hurt you."

"No... _you_ won't," said Harry. "Not on purpose. But until Voldemort's gone..."

"You can't let him rule your life."

"Why not? He has before this. Hell, Riddle'll be a part of my life for the rest of it. For all I know, I might not even be able to _die_ because of this damn thing in my skull."

"We'll find a way of getting rid of it."

Harry sighed.

"We will," replied Lily. "Once this Voldemort is dealt with, we'll deal with the other one, somehow, someway, we will."

Harry was silent.

"Riddle wants to train me, somehow," he said, finally.

"In what?"

"How to fight him. He expects Voldemort to make another attempt on my life."

"Is that why you're down here? Worried about what he'll do to you?"

"No. He wants me to survive." Why was left unsaid.

"Harry James Potter," growled Lily.

Harry flinched.

"You will live through this. You will be freed of that monster being connected to your head. You will have a family, and you'll give me any number of wonderful grandchildren."

At this Harry shrugged.

"Rachel seems rather interested in you," commented Lily.

Harry sighed, and smashed his forehead into the table, and muttered something under his breath.

"Are you alright?"

"Not you too," he repeated, louder.

"James has been pressuring you, hasn't he?"

Harry nodded, his forehead still one with the table.

"I'll tell him to quit it. He does it often enough with Sunstripe and Hannah. Honestly, he believes since he found his one true love in school, his children should as well. Thankfully, he hasn't talked to Azalea about it at all. Then again, I think he plans on having the fatherly talk with anyone whose interested with her."

"Oh, god," muttered Harry.

"What?"

"Riddle. He thinks I'm interested in Rachel."

It took Lily a moment to catch up with what Harry was saying. When she did, Lily couldn't help but laugh at Harry's misery.

**Author's Notes:** I love this story, if only for it's ongoing mockery of the prophecy.

When I wrote that Riddle was going to be teaching at Hogwarts, I immediately started thing of student implications. Most of the Death Nibblers don't actually know what Voldemort looks like, and very few people know who Riddle is, except for Ginny. I spent about twenty minutes trying to figure out just what I would do about Ginny. Would Riddle kill her? Bind her to silence? Have her expelled? Have her transferred to Beauxbatons? Salem? Or maybe he'd do nothing, and let her stew until she snaps, claims he's Voldemort, and the men in white coats come and take her away to the long-term spell damage ward of St. Mungo's.

Then I remembered that I'd killed _this_ Ginny in the first chapter.

This is what multiple universes does to writing. I'm thankful I've never been taken by the fool idea of writing a proper time travel story, because _oh god_, I could never plot that shit out. I don't ever want to write a story that requires a _fucking flow chart_.

Anyways, here's a review response, since someone asked a question without signing their review, and the question annoyed me enough that I wanted to answer it.

_timber_ says: "The only part I don't really like is the whole cross-dimensional communication. Even if they have a mental connection, I highly doubt it would work between realities."

Why? Quantum physics has the concept of Quantum Entanglement, basically having two objects (at present, atoms, but they're working on it) in different places that act in the same way. There's a possibility of it being a loophole around FTL communication, IIRC. Harry and Riddle share pieces of souls, an actual, real (if non-tangible) object. Why would distance (whether physical or pan-dimensional) affect that? It's not like Riddle tore the Horcrux out of Harry's skull before shipping him off into the œther.

And as to distance, depending on what interpretations of the universe you look at, Harry's really only a short distance (short time in an environment that would make spit go "clink") in an n-dimensional direction (where n3). Hell, there's even a theory about the universe being a hologram on a 2 dimensional surface, so he's really only a short distance "up" or "down." (Don't ask me to make sense of physics. That involves math. I graduated from college so that I could stop doing math.) So really, it's _your_ argument that makes no sense.


	23. Chapter 23: The End of a Vacation

**Chapter 23: The End of a Vacation**

Rachel was eating a slice of toast with far to much jam on it, when she heard a tap at the window. She turned to look at the window, to see an impressively large owl perched on the sill. She stared at the owl for a moment, before opening the window and allowing the bird in.

"Well, now, this is new," she commented. It was a large eagle owl, if she had to guess, and it was carrying a letter. She picked the letter and looked to the owl.

"You'd better stay for a response, because I don't have an owl myself."

The bird seemed to understand, and stayed perched on a kitchen chair.

"Rachel, dear, why is there an owl?" asked Miriam.

"Because someone sent me a letter," replied Rachel, examining the envelope, and who it was addressed to.

_Lyra Cassiopeia Black._

"Huh. It's addressed to Lyra."

"Isn't that you?"

"Yes... but very few people know that. Let's have a look, shall we?"

Rachel opened the letter, and examined its contents. She promptly began to laugh.

"What is it?"

Rachel tried to talk, but instnead shook her head, still laughing, and handed her mother the letter. Miriam read the letter, and then furrowed her brow.

"Isn't this that boy who...?"

Rachel nodded, clutching her gut, trying hard not to fall out of her chair.

Miriam shook her head.

"You should at least send a nice letter back," was all Miriam said.

"Oh, I will," said Rachel, her hand defiantly in the air, even if she was lying on her back on the kitchen floor, the occasional giggle fit wracking her body.

She needed to talk to Andi and Hermione.

0x0x0x0

Amelia Bones sat in the chair, staring at the white wall, while Hermione Granger took a seat herself. She'd seen Granger's presentation on the muggle world, and already, her mind was spinning on ways around it... until it arrived back on why the Wizarding World went into hiding in the first place. To which, she decided, that she didn't want to deal with this. It was well above her pay grade.

"You-Know-Who believes this?"

"He spent his summers in London, during World War 2," replied Hermione. "He knows full well the destructive power of the muggles."

"Right then," replied Amelia. "I'll ask you this. He practically has the Wizarding World. Why bother? Why bother keep you alive? Why bother take it by politics, rather than by force?"

"I've put a fair amount of thought into it... along with Remus Lupin."

"Lupin?" asked Amelia.

Hermione nodded.

"He's sequestered in a... _secret_ location," said Hermione. "A location that has access to a rather expansive, if equally dark, library. He's doing research for me."

"And?"

"We've done a fair amount of research, Madam Bones, but it needs some background information, first."

"Alright, fine, lay it on me."

Hermione thought for a moment, before she spoke.

"First, and foremost, would be the question, 'what is Harry's curse scar?' It has several unusual side-effects on Harry. First and fore most, it's a link between Harry and Voldemort's minds."

"It's _what_?"

"Whenever one of them feels a powerful emotion, it spills over to the other."

"That sounds like a soul bond from a cheesy romance novel," commented Amelia.

"It does, doesn't it? Except, well, that's what it might be."

"Any idea how?"

"There's any number of magics that rend the human soul into pieces. Remus even found a ritual that can take those pieces, and anchor them to objects. When Voldemort went to the Potters house, he likely intended to use Harry's death to create one of them."

"And the curse scar is..."

"A piece of Voldemort's soul, a direct link from Voldemort to Harry. All of Voldemort's hatred spilling over into a little boy. And Dumbledore knew it."

"So what did Dumbledore do?"

"He didn't remove it. He didn't kill Harry, either, because of the prophecy. So, instead, he cast a spell on Harry, to ensure Harry would never go dark."

"What sort of spell?"

"A mind magic. One used in mediation. It takes away hate, bottles it up and locks it away."

"But if the spell is broken-"

"It doesn't matter! Those sorts of spells are permanent after a year or two, and Harry's had it since he was one-and-a-half!"

"A boy who can't hate. And if he couldn't hate, he couldn't go dark," said Amelia.

"Exactly," replied Hermione. "And Voldemort's connection wouldn't effect him, except to give him pain. A regular enticement to always be angry with Riddle."

"Fine. So what does this have to do with Voldemort being... sane."

"When Voldemort was resurrected, he stole Harry's blood, and willingly took it within himself. It solidified the link between them. Harry regularly dreamed of what Voldemort wanted. Namely, the Department of Mysteries, and the prophecy sphere contained within."

"You think the link works both ways?"

"I know it does. Voldemort is still in contact with Harry."

Amelia Bones stood, and paced. This information, while not groundbreaking, definitely shed light on a few things.

"So Voldemort is becoming sane, because of Harry's influence."

"That's the theory," replied Hermione. "There's also... well... I've spoken with _him_, and there's a few other things that have stood out."

"What?"

"He spared my life, and he listens to me for advice, for one," commented Hermione. "And also he's developed a rather unusual respect for Lily Potter."

Amelia nodded.

"And just why has Madam Longbottom agreed to take you in?"

"I'm with child. Neville's."

"Ah. And I suppose that's why Augusta is spearheading the wizarding traditions class at Hogwarts?"

"Along with my updated Muggle Studies program."

Amelia smirked.

"Miss Granger, do you know my niece, Susan?"

"Peripherally," replied Hermione.

"Lucius Malfoy came to me, and stated that some of the more violent elements of the Death Eaters would be paying me a visit tomorrow night. I expect a trap, and I'd like Susan to stick with you incase it is."

"Right," replied Hermione. "Good luck, Madam Bones. And I do hope you don't take any prisoners."

"I've been informed not to plan on it," replied Amelia.

"Good."

0x0x0x0

Harry had, by and large, zoned out. He'd been carrying purchases for the better part of two hours. Rachel was annoyed with him that he could use magic over the summer holidays, and shrank everything that she handed to him in the restrooms.

They were in the muggle world, after Rachel worked out how to get money transferred the other way.

"So Harry," asked Rachel, examining a few skirts. "What girls did you attempt to date?"

"Cho," replied Harry.

"Cho? That's it?"

"It turned out pretty badly."

"Didn't you say you took Padma to the ball?"

"Parvati, actually. It was mostly convenience."

"Ouch, I'm sure Parvati liked that."

"She didn't. Honestly, I wish I knew Luna at the time. That would have turned some heads, and she'd have understood we were going as friends."

"Ah. Parvati didn't take that to kindly?"

"She knew she was the last minute choice."

"Why didn't you go with Hermione?"

"Me and Ron forgot that she was a girl."

"Ron and I," corrected Rachel absent-mindedly. "And really? You forgot she was a girl?"

"Yeah. More than a little embarrassing."

"Just a bit. I'm sure she was pleased by that, though."

"Yeah. You heard who she went with, right?"

"I know. Krum. Hermione mentioned it to me. Nice boy, very gentlemanly. I think he might be gay."

Harry coughed.

"What?"

"He mentioned he had someone back home, and we spent most of the time chatting about classes and differences between the schools."

"No, no, the gay part."

"He mentioned he was dating someone back at Drumstrang. Except Drumstrang is an all-boys school."

Harry sat in quiet silence for a long moment, before shaking his head.

"Or it might have been lost in his very bad English. So how's life with James and Lily?"

"James keeps treating me like Sunstripe."

"Your dimensional doppleganger, right?"

"Yeah."

"That sucks. It makes sense from his point of view. He knows how to deal with Harry Potter re: his son. Therefore, obviously, you are Harry Potter, his son, and are to be treated as such. And by the way, I still think Rex is a dumb name for a king cobra."

"I'm not a king cobra."

"Really? Well, I mean, between parselmouth and the king name, there really aren't any other snakes that qualify as a king."

"Sure there is. The king of all serpents."

"King of all... basilisk?"

"Yeah."

"That's... shit."

"Yeah."

"Wow. No wonder you aren't planning on learning the change."

"Yeah."

"Still, it'd be a good way of shutting up Malfoy."

"Very true."

"Oh, by the way, about Malfoy..."

Harry couldn't help but laugh once he heard what was going on.

0x0x0x0

"Any problems getting the kids on the train?" asked Andi.

"No, although Sirius and Rachel seemed to be sharing some sort of private joke, though," commented James.

"You'll approve, once Harry tells you about it," commented Andi. She turned to a teller. "I would like to speak with the cart-driver Skullcleaver about a previous arrangement Lyra Black made with him."

"Wait by the carts, he'll be along in a moment," said the teller. "NEXT."

James and Andi went to the carts, and waited by them. Several other goblins made note of them, but promptly ignored them in favor of other customers.

A cart returned, with an elderly wizard stepping out, followed by Skullcleaver.

"Mrs. Tonks, Mr. Potter," said Skullcleaver.

"Lyra mentioned a bit of business with the dragon before her vault. We have all of the items we wish destroyed, and Mr. Potter will render payment in of Miss Black."

Skullcleaver grunted in assent, and stepped into the cart. James and Andi followed the goblin into the cart, and remained silent until they arrived at the location of the dragon.

"The items?" asked Skullcleaver.

James upended a bag he was carrying, letting the cup, diadem, locket, and ring roll onto the floor.

"Four items is sixteen galleons," said the goblin, visually inspecting each of them. "What are they cursed with?"

"It's best not to know," replied James, handing the goblin thirty-two galleons.

The goblin looked to the items, and then to Potter.

"And the curses can't be removed?"

"I don't know, and I'm unwilling to delve into the lore required to learn."

The goblin nodded. He took a nearby spear, and hooked the locket with it. He walked past the dragon, which quietly sniffed him, before ignoring him, and growling at the locket. The goblin murmured to the dragon, and it calmed down, watching the locket with its sightless eyes. The goblin repeated the process with each item, bringing each of the Horcruxes to the pile, before he shouted something unintelligible to the dragon. The dragon took a deep breath, and a sustained stream of white hot flame engulfed the items. A piercing shriek came from within the flame, as tufts of black discolored the dragon's fire.

James, Andi, and Skullcleaver stood by, watching the smoking and twisted remains of the objects as they cooled. The dragon had backed away, annoyed by the items, but satisfied with their destruction. Skullcleaver gave a happy sigh when all was said and done.

"Well, that was impressive," commented Andi.

"That it was," said Skullcleaver.

"Didn't think they'd actually scream," said James. He gave the dragon a wide skirt, and then checked the pile of still molten metal. The locket, the diadem, and the cup were all unrecognizable twisted lumps of metal. The jewels on the diadem had cracked and shattered, turning into a fine powder. The stone on the ring, however, seemed unharmed, while the rest of the ring was blackened metal. James cast a few diagnostic charms on the stone, before picking it up, frowning at it.

"What is it?" asked Andi.

"The stone on the ring survived."

"It did?" asked the goblin. "Impressive. Very few items can survive dragon's fire."

"Yeah, I know," said James, examining the stone. He made a note of the symbol on the stone, before dropping it into a pouch hanging from his belt.

"Well, Skullcleaver, I do believe we're done here."

Skullcleaver nodded, and they left the bank.

"What was the stone?" asked Andi, as they left the bank.

"A family heirloom," replied James. "Come on."

**Author's Notes:** I got my first takedown notice from Admin! Jamie Evans and Fate's Bitch has been stripped from the interwebs at the moment. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to use the word "Bitch" in a title or summary. So go re-favorite it, please and thank you. Or, if you've never read it before, go read it! Leave some reviews! I used to have two hundred some-odd reviews, according to my inbox, but now it's got _nothing_. Very unfortunate.

I'm pretty sure I said I'd avoid the Deus ex Machina that are the Hallows... but that doesn't mean I'd outright avoid them.

And of course James knows what the stone is. You think they don't know about their own cloak?


	24. Chapter 24: School Begins

**Chapter 24: School Begins**

Susan Bones had spent nearly an entire month at Longbottom Manor.

Her Aunt Amelia and two dozen aurors had fought off nearly a dozen Death Eaters, and killed them all, but she hadn't returned to the manor for security reasons. It was her fellow guest at the manor, Hermione Granger, that explained.

"It's neutral ground. You-Know-Who-" Hermione actually hadn't said You-Know-Who, but instead said _his_ name- "made an unbreakable vow, declaring this neutral ground."

"He did? How do you know?"

"Because I was the one he made the oath to," replied Hermione, to which Susan was open-mouth shocked.

Granger was... different. She'd only really known her through the DA, and even then, Granger had been standoffish. She wasn't someone to become friends with. Her encyclopedic knowledge of everything could become grating in class, and she was rather demanding. Now, though, she was more focused than Susan had ever seen. She practically ignored Susan's presence, instead making notes from muggle texts with names like _Encyclopedia Britannica _and _How Things Work_.

"What are you doing?" asked Susan. She was unsurprised when Hermione didn't even look up at her.

"I'm re-writing the muggle studies course."

"Is that really necessary?" asked Susan.

"How many muggles are there on Earth?" asked Hermione.

"I dunno, twenty or thirty million?" guessed Susan, guessing it was roughly the same as the wizarding population.

"The United Kingdom has 60 million muggle citizens, and there are five billion muggles on Earth. With a B," corrected Hermione. "How does a muggle travel from England to New England, and how long does it take?"

"By ship, and fifteen days."

"By aeroplane, and anywhere from four to eight hours," corrected Hermione. "Look at that book, and tell me what you see."

"A barren landscape," said Susan. "And... I'm not rightly sure what that is in the background. It's some sort of blue and white striped ball."

"If you look closely," said Hermione, "you will see patches of brown beneath the white. That would be land. It's a picture of the Earth, from the Moon."

"You're joking!"

"It was taken in 1969. Look in that book," said Hermione, pointing at another open book.

Susan, halfway in shock, look at the book, and saw a red, barren landscape.

"It's a barren landscape with a red sky. Why?" replied Susan.

"It's a photograph from the surface of Mars, taken by a muggle machine and sent back to Earth wirelessly. They had to tint the picture to red to give it more impact. I understand the sky of Mars is supposed to be blue," said Hermione. "Look at that picture."

Susan was stunned enough to pick the next book.

"It's... it's a mote of dust in a sunbeam," said Susan.

"That pale blue dot is Earth," said Hermione.

Susan's eyes never left the small dot, suspended in the sunbeam.

"Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroy of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, 'superstar', every 'supreme leader', every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. That was a quote made by a muggle astronomer, Carl Sagan.

"The wizarding world hasn't changed in nearly two hundred years. The muggles went from sailing across the ocean to putting a man on the moon in seventy years. The Ministry believes electricity to be a passing fad, while muggles use it to have their cities be visible from orbit. So yes. It's necessary. Did you have any other inane questions?"

Susan shook her head, and walked away. She didn't talk much to Hermione after that.

And now she was getting on the train, while Hermione remained behind at Longbottom Manor. Susan thought about it, and she could understand. Hermione, throwing herself into work like she always. Of her only friends, Ronald Weasley was dead, and Harry Potter was gone. Neville himself was dead, and he seemed a nice boy. Loony she didn't really know anything about, but she seemed nice enough, if insane.

She wouldn't go back to Hogwarts if Hannah and Ernie and Sally-Anne were dead, either.

0x0x0x0

"Malfoy."

Draco turned, to come face to face with with the most regal woman he'd ever met, except for his mother. Intense violet eyes stared looked down upon him, surrounded with a hint of make-up to make them stand-out more. Her curled black hair was long, and she was in black silk robes, although she wasn't wearing her tie yet. He supposed she wouldn't, given he'd never seen her before.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," said Draco, bowing and taking a kiss of her knuckles.

"Then you are a simpleton and a fool, Malfoy," commented the girl. "I am Lyra Cassiopeia Black."

Draco's eyes widened in recognition for barely an instant, before he gave a genuine smile.

"I am enchanted by your presence, my dear. Let me show you to my compartment."

0x0x0x0

"She's really going through with it," said Hermione, shaking her head.

Harry nodded. He couldn't talk, since he was too busy laughing.

Luna, who had joined them, merely read the Quibbler as she always did, but she had to admit, it was an amusing joke.

0x0x0x0

Draco was star-struck. Pansy hated her. Daphne seemed to be amused by something, while Crabbe and Goyle were their usual selves.

But Draco was star-struck. Lyra was intelligent, she had a quick wit and a sharp tongue. She was well-read, and very educated. She could definitely hold her own against them all. This was the girl he wanted to marry. Why hadn't she gone to Hogwarts?

They were walking to the carriages, when Potter walked up to them. Given he was wearing a Gryffindor tie, it was the new one.

"So, have fun?" asked Potter.

"Yep! Making fun of inbred pureblood morons is lots of fun, I must say."

"Not all of us are inbred morons, Miss Marx," said Daphne.

"What? Marx?" thought Draco.

"You're an idiot, Malfoy," said Daphne. "It was good to see you've had a well-rounded education, Miss Marx. It has been a pleasure, and I hope we might talk later."

"Of course. Harry? My tie?"

Harry pulled a red and gold Gryffindor tie out of his pocket, and Draco watched as Lyra pulled it on.

"But... but..."

"Draco, I'm going to let you in on a secret. Bellatrix fucked a half-blood. Ta-ta!"

And with that, Rachel linked her arm with Harry Potter, and they stepped into a carriage.

Daphne broke out into gales of laughter.

0x0x0x0

The Great Hall didn't have a lot of it's usual chatter and happiness. Well, except for the Slytherin Table.

Albus wanted this year to be over with. The reason why was down the table, quietly chatting with Minerva. Even she did not realize she was speaking with the Dark Lord. Severus was sitting quietly at the end of the table, ignoring everything.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," began Albus. He laid his usual speech about standing united against the darkness a little thickly, but then again, Tom was sitting two chairs to his left.

"I would also like to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Thomas Riddle."

There was mild applause and quiet curiosity. No one seemed to recognize the name. Hagrid would have, were it not for the fact that he was in his hut, drinking. He hadn't really stopped since Harry and his friends were lost. Albus had worked with him, so he at least was helping the animals, but Albus knew he wasn't going to be able to teach. Perhaps next year. Instead, Albus had asked Grubbly-Plank to return, and take another year. She quickly agreed.

Albus also noted that Miss Granger wasn't here. She must still be at Augusta's. He'd rather hoped she come back to school, but he supposed it was understandable she didn't come to the school where all of her dead friends went.

0x0x0x0

In the Gryffindor Common Room, after the feast, Rachel got up on one of the tables.

"Alright, everybody, pay attention to me for a second. Who here's heard the rumor the Slytherins are spreading round about me?"

Several hands were raised.

"Here's the deal. I found out over the summer that my mum was Bellatrix LeStrange. She apparently laid some track with a half-blood named Tom Riddle. My birth name is Lyra Cassiopeia Black, since Bellatrix was a Black before she was a LeStrange, and yes, it's the same Black as Professor Black. As near as I've been able to figure out, my real parents were killed by the Dark Lord, although they missed me because I was kept a secret. I was found by muggles, raised by them, and I'm sticking with the name Rachel. That clear up everything?"

There was a number of affirmatives and nods.

"Great! Let's get some sleep."

Ron Weasley was rather quiet, although he frowned when he saw Harry Potter, a different Harry Potter, join them in the Gryffindor dorm room.

0x0x0x0

Voldemort paced within his inner sanctum. Things had not been going well since that blasted boy had arrived. He wasn't certain how the little brat had caused his failure to retrieve the prophecy, but it was obviously the boy's fault.

His attempt to investigate – or maybe just murder – the boy had backfired when he assaulted him and stole his wand. The three of them would have died quickly if he'd had his wand, that much was obvious.

And now... now he _knew _something was wrong.

"My... my lord?" simpered one of his followers.

"Yes?"

"We retrieved the locket."

"Give it here," said Voldemort, wandlessly summoning it from the man's hand.

It took barely an instant to recognize it was a fake. There was also a note inside of it. Voldemort restrained his temper long enough to read the note, his face contorting into a fury. The locket heated up and melted in Voldemort's hand, the gold running over his fingers and dripping onto the floor, igniting the hardwood floor at his feet. Voldemort released the note, and it instantly turned to ash.

"_Nagini_," Voldemort hissed. "_Stay by my side. Trust no one._"

The Snake hissed in affirmation.

"Black has returned to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, My Lord," chimed in Lucius. "Also, My Lord, a girl claiming to be the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange has come forward before I could acquire the Lestrange vault."

"You are proving to be a greater and greater disappointment, Lucius. _Cruicio_."

Lucius' screams filled the chamber.

"Severus."

"Yes, My Lord?"

"What is Dumbledore's opinion of the girl?"

"He is unaware of her existence, My Lord. When he gathers that information, I will relay what thoughts he releases to me."

Voldemort absently nodded, the wheels of his mind turning as he resumed his pacing.

Peter was the first step. The boy knew he was a traitor. Now his Horcruxes. It was obvious now, why his counterpart sent the boy on. He was losing, and rather than attempt to truly defeat him, decided to not fight at all.

But why his wand? That was the question. The boy obviously must have thought it was a Horcrux. He fingered the holly wand in his hands, and knew it wasn't the perfect fit his yew wand was, but it would be enough.

"Antony?"

"My Lord," replied Antony Zabini.

"Your son has begun work?"

"He has, My Lord."

"Excellent. Inform him he has until Halloween."

Antony swallowed, but nodded.

"I will, My Lord."

"Inform him, if he is successful, that I will personally reward him once we take Hogwarts. And if he fails, I will owl him pieces of his sister, starting with her toes."

"Yes, My Lord."

0x0x0x0

Albus found the school to be on edge, as he sat in on Riddle's first Against the Dark Arts class under Potter's cloak. He suspected Harry's disappearance, coupled with the deaths of so many students, the failure to return of Miss Granger, and the rising power of the Dark Lord. Rumors through the school said that Susan Bones was the last person to see Miss Granger. He'd have to speak with her about it.

"Now, it is to my understanding that most of you were part of Mister Potter's defense club last term. You, Mister Finnegan, was it?"

"Yes, Professor. I just wanted to know... err... how did you know about it?"

"That is an excellent question, Mister Finnegan. I know many things. For example, I know that our dear Headmaster is at the back of this room, hiding under stolen property. The first spell you will learn, children, is to detect the invisible. _Homenum revelio _is the incantation. As can be plainly seen, he is outlined with magic, and hidden under Mister Potter's invisibility cloak, if I do recall."

Silence filled the room, as Professor Dumbledore removed the cloak.

"And just how do you know that, Tom?" asked Dumbledore.

"Note, children, that he did not deny it was Mister Potter's property-"

"I imagine he would have left it to me, Tom," replied Dumbledore, with an easy smile.

"You imagine many things, Brian," replied Riddle with an easy smile. "As to how I know, well..." Riddle tapped his forehead. "As I said, I know many things."

Dumbledore nodded carefully, before leaving the classroom.

"You two don't like each other, do you?" said Lavender Brown outloud.

"No, we don't," replied Riddle. "We've never seen eye to eye. He was the one who introduced me to the Wizarding World, and did so by lighting my dresser on fire."

There was an awestruck silence in the room at this comment.

"Perhaps it would be best to understand something now, rather than later. People have Agendas. They have goals. They have wants, and they will do things to get those wants. The Dark Arts are not just magic. There is also politics, the magic of words and manipulation. For example, in our little battle of words, the Headmaster and I were both attempting to sway our listeners to our side. Why?"

"Because you don't like each other?" asked Lavender.

"That is a tad of an understatement, Miss Brown, but it will suffice. If we did not have an audience, we would quickly come to blows."

"Is there a reason?" asked Susan Bones.

"A reason, Miss Bones?" asked Professor Riddle, largely to himself. "As I said, Dumbledore has never liked me. He never liked me from when he first introduced me to the wizarding world, and he has not liked me since. He has never made an attempt to be kind to me, and thus, I am not kind to him. Now, back to what you must learn. Allow me to show you the wand movement again."

0x0x0x0

Harry looked around, and found himself in the Slytherin Common Room. He took a seat in one of the chairs, near Riddle.

"Potter, it has been a wonderful first day," commented Riddle, smiling as he stared at the fire.

"First day?" asked Harry.

"Of teaching, Potter. I am a Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor, and I have removed my own curse on the position as well."

Harry stared at him.

"Well, I suppose that beats the joke Lyra played on Malfoy."

"Do tell."

"Malfoy sent Lyra Cassiopeia Black a letter."

"Did he now?" commented Riddle.

"Yes. After a little bit of back and forth, Lyra said she'd meet Draco on the train."

"And?"

"Draco didn't recognize her. She's spent a lot of time around arrogant windbags, and with some extra coaching from Andromeda Tonks nee B lack, it wasn't much trouble to fake being a pureblood."

Riddle shook his head.

"I do believe it will be interesting to teach the little snot. We'll see how he is, then."

"Good luck, he's an arrogant ass. He's probably already written you off as a worthless mudblood."

"More than likely," commented Riddle. "I'll have to use him as an example, then."

At this, Harry wasn't certain if he should pity Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, and one more thing, Potter. This Friday, be in the Room of Requirement. I want to test if the Room can create some sort of bridge."

And then Harry realized he should pity himself.

**Author's Note:** Not sure why, but this has been getting harder and harder to write... again. Something Wicked has been coming so easily, while this is just dragging. I like writing it, it's just that I'm finishing at 3am on Sunday morning, rather than Thursday evening on the train home. We'll see how next week goes before I decide whether or not I need another break from it. If I do, I might start publishing another story I'm working on. Or maybe I'll see if I can finish an earlier draft of Jamie Evans. Trust me, it's _very_ different from Jamie Evans. For one thing, it has Luna, too.

**On the Petition Thing: **Please don't send it to me. I don't care. I know I had a story taken down. I know I lost 200-300 reviews because of that. Was it annoying? Yes. Was their reason outlined in the terms of service? Yes. Did they do it wrong? Yes. At the end of the day, do I really give a shit? No. Why?

I don't actually write for you. Yes, you all give me a nice ego boost, and provide a good excuse to give myself a deadline. Those are good bonuses. You aren't my audience, though.

I am my audience. I write for fun. I write for me. I share my work with you all, certainly, but you should be thankful you don't have to read some of the god-awful shit hiding in my Dropbox account. (Which reminds me, if you want Dropbox, here's the link: db (dot) tt/HBPOUo14. I'd like more storage. I want to backup my copies of Quake 2 & Quake 3)

If I was writing for an audience, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. I'd be writing something original, and I'd be getting it published. Why? Because if I'm writing for somebody else, that fucker better be handing me money for my time and effort.

So I really don't care if FFN eats my stories.


	25. Chapter 25: The Beginning of the End

**Chapter 25: The Beginning of the End**

2x2x2x2

Harry paced the corridor for the eighth time, but the entrance didn't open.

He tapped his foot for a moment or two, before turning and leaving.

_Potter, where are you?_

_ The door wouldn't show up. I'm going to the kitchen to ask a house-elf if they can get in and find out who's in there._

_ And do you think that'll work? The house-elves generally don't agree to follow student requests._

_ All else fails, I can ask Professor Black._

_ It's good to see you thinking, Potter._

_ I'm glad to appease your ego. In which case, I've been thinking about something else._

_ What?_

_ A line from the prophecy, _thought Harry. _Neither can live while the other survives._

_ I thought that would be obvious, Potter. It says neither can live, while the other survives. Thus, if both of us live, then neither of us are surviving. Therefore, the prophecy has been fulfilled and we don't have to deal with it._

_ I'm… not entirely certain it's supposed to work that way,_ replied Harry.

_ Prophecies are what we make of them. If we give them weight, and give them credence, then they have power._

_ I more meant the English language. Doesn't neither mean not either? As in, none of the above?_

There was silence for a moment, as Harry walked past the Hufflepuff common room, and up to the painting of a fruit bowl.

_ Potter?_

_ Yes?_

_ Shut up._

Harry didn't bother to reply as he tickled the pear and stepped into the kitchens, flagging down an elf.

"Hows can Kinder help Mister Student, sir?" asked the elf.

"Would it be possible for you to tell me who is presently using the Come and Go room?" asked Harry.

"Kinder can do that for Mister Student, sir," replied Kinder. The elf popped away, and another elf brought Harry a glass of pumpkin juice. He thanked the elf, and took a seat at the small table while he waited for Kinder to return.

"Mister Student Sir? Kinder apologizes, but Kinder can't get into the Room."

"Thank you for trying, Kinder. Do you know the reason why?"

"The room stops me, Mister Student Sir."

"That's very helpful, Kinder. Can I ask for your help later with finding out who's using the room?"

"Of course, Mister Student Sir."

"Thank you, Kinder. You've been very helpful."

Kinder nodded, and Harry left the kitchen.

_ Someone's in the room, and blocking access,_ said Harry.

_ And?_

_ The elves can't get in, but I asked for the elves to find out who steps out of it._

_ Excellent, Potter._

Harry went off to the DADA office to give Sirius the news.

2x2x2x2

Snape didn't know what Theodore Nott was doing, although he was trying to find out. All Theodore did was show up for lunch and class, before disappearing back to wherever he had been. It had Severus worried, as he knew it meant the Dark Lord had a way into the castle, or would have one _soon_.

"Mister Nott, stay after class," said Snape, examining Theodore's potion.

"Yes, Professor?" asked Theodore.

"I am aware that the Dark Lord has given you a mission."

"Yes, Professor," replied Theodore.

"You are already beginning to wear yourself out. You must slow down, or you will cause mistakes."

"I don't have time, Sir," replied Theodore. "The Dark Lord wants it done by Halloween... and if I don't, well..."

"Speak no more," said Snape, seeing the nervousness on Theodore's face. "I am well aware of the price of failure. Pair up with Miss Bulstrode, and give her all of your class notes. There are several charms she can use to create your homework to cover for you. I will begin brewing several different nutrient and awareness potions for you, to prevent any mistakes in your judgment. I will also deal with any questions about your absence from the dorms."

Theodore breathed a sigh of relief.

"Should you need additional wands, there are several students loyal to the cause who can be used."

"The Dark Lord said I alone must do it," replied Theodore.

Snape nodded, and then dismissed him. Snape determined he would speak with Dumbledore before lunch.

1x1x1x1

_Theodore Nott is practically living in the Room of Requirement, _thought Harry, as he walked from Lunch to Transfiguration.

_ Interesting,_ thought back Riddle. _Ah, I already realize my counterpart's plan. There is a vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement-_

"Mister Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall, as Harry walked into the Transfiguration classroom.

"Yes, Professor?" asked Harry.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you after dinner."

"Right, Professor. Thank you."

"Of course. The password for the gargoyle is Cockroach Clusters."

"Right, Professor."

"Any idea what that's about?" asked Rachel.

"Not really," replied Harry.

_Professor Dumbledore wants to see me after dinner, tonight._

_ Speak with Sirius, and have your parents there with you. I suspect he has determined something. In all likelihood, he knows of the Horcruxes, especially if he already acquired the Diary._

_ Right. The vanishing cabinet?_

_ It's a portal between two locations. Step in one, and step out the other. With one in the Room of Requirement, and the other in Borgin and Burke's in Diagon Alley._

_ The Diadem._

_ Not just the Diadem. The school itself. He means to kill you as soon as he can, and hopes to do so by surprise._

_ Which explains why Theodore is practically living in there._

_ Correct. Dumbledore has likely found out at least part of this, and wishes to speak with you to somehow prepare you for this._

"You alright, Harry?" asked Rachel.

"Yeah, fine."

"Listening to the voices in your head?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"You know, I didn't mean that literally," said Rachel.

Harry winced.

"That means you're going to tell me something," she added.

Harry groaned internally.

_Potter, why do I feel as though you have done something both incredibly stupid, and also that will annoy me to no end?_

_Yeah_.

1x1x1x1

Riddle rubbed his forehead while seated in his apartments at his own home. He rarely took dinner in the castle, preferring the comfort of home. Also, it let him relax from the ever-growing headache that was Potter, even if the boy was efficient at dealing with his counterpart.

"What is it, M'lord?" came Bellatrix's voice from behind him.

"Potter," grumbled Riddle.

"My poor Dark Lord," replied Bellatrix. Riddle could hear her smile, and the lightest touch of mockery. "What has he done now?"

"He accidentally revealed that he still is in communication with me to my counterpart's daughter," replied Riddle.

"Or perhaps our daughter sussed it out," replied Bellatrix. "She is _our_ daughter, after all."

"Perhaps," replied Riddle.

"And perhaps there is something we can do that would annoy him in return?"

"And what do you have in mind?" asked Riddle, as hands wrapped around his torso.

"I think you can figure that out," came a whisper in his ear.

2x2x2x2

For the third time in five minutes, Harry swallowed while staring at his food in the dining hall. His face was beet red.

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad," said Rachel.

"That's not it," replied Harry.

"Then what is it?"

"My scar's acting up," said Harry.

"You don't look like it's acting up," commented Hermione.

"Well... no... it can be different at times."

"What sort of different?" asked Rachel.

"You don't want to know," said Harry.

"Just tell me, Harry," said Rachel.

Harry frowned, his face turning even redder, before pulling her close and whispering in her ear.

She turned beet red.

"Really?"

"Told you," replied Harry. "At least you don't have to deal with it."

"No, no I don't," contemplated Rachel.

"And I have to see Dumbledore after this, and James and Lily will be there, too."

"Well... maybe you should project back?" asked Rachel.

"Project _what_ back?"

Rachel thought about this for a moment.

"I don't know, maybe Dumbledore performing fellatio on Snape?"

Harry went from red to green. "Yes, but if I do, what will _he_ project back?"

"Oh... sorry, then," replied Rachel.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione.

"I'll tell you later," said Rachel.

2x2x2x2

Harry didn't get a chance to knock on the door, the door opening for him at the head of the spiral staircase. Harry smiled at James and Lily, who were seated at one end of the office, and glanced at Snape who was at the other end, disgusted at being in the same room as James.

"Professors," said Harry.

"Have a seat, Mister Potter," said Dumbledore. "I am hoping you might be able to shed some light on a mystery for me. Severus, if you would start?"

"Of course. Theodore Nott is performing an unknown task within the castle. He has been charged with performing the task alone and not trusting his fellow students or myself with any of the details. It must be completed by Halloween, or members of his family will likely be tortured and killed."

"Thank you, Severus. Normally, I would keep this information to myself. However, I have been investigating certain artifacts related to Voldemort's continued existence. Once I found the Diary, I determined that Voldemort had created a rather detestable object known as a Horcrux. I will not discuss the method, beyond stating that no sane being would do so, but the result is unmistakable. As long as such objects exist, Voldemort is immortal."

Harry nodded.

"I had hoped to locate another of his by examining sites of Voldemort's childhood, and determined that one was in his maternal family's residence. Sadly, it had been removed."

Harry nodded, then looked at James and Lily.

"Whatever you decide, Harry," said James.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore.

"It was destroyed."

Dumbledore smiled, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Do you know how many are left?"

"Voldemort's snake, Nagini, is the only remaining one," said Harry.

"And just how did you destroy them?"

"Gringotts guard dragon," filled in James. "Four galleons a pop."

Dumbledore was honestly surprised at this, and then happily nodded.

"So that leaves one remaining. Do you know anything of Mister Nott's approaching deadline?"

_What do you think?_

_ He is being cooperative, and he likely does wish to protect the students. As hesitant as I am to reveal anything, I would recommend stating the existence of the Vanishing Cabinet._

"There's a room on the 7th floor, that the elves call the Come and Go Room. More commonly, it's called the Room of Requirement. It's a room that can be called forth containing the school's lost and found. There's a damaged Vanishing Cabinet in there. Its mate is probably in Borgin and Burke's, if it hasn't already been moved elsewhere."

Dumbledore paused, deep in thought, before nodding.

"Voldemort means to assault the castle, then?"

"Yeah. He'll also be pissed when he finds the Horcrux in that room to be missing."

"Then plans must be made. Thank you, Mister Potter. Severus, please provide any further aid you can to Mister Nott."

"The house-elves are already feeding him in the room and one of the other students is covering his classwork," replied Severus, before turning and leaving, not glancing at James and Lily.

"Well, that went well," said James.

"Quite," said Dumbledore. "Harry, I presume your plan is to use Priori Incantatum?"

Harry nodded.

"That is exceedingly dangerous, if you should fail..."

"I've succeeded before," said Harry.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, before nodding. He sat back and ran his hand through his beard.

**Author's Note: **No one expects to see the banished arisen! Or something. Blame Luan Mao for that bit, as he beta'd this, too.

Yeah, the bug hit me to finish this one. Now I just have to figure out the ending for this mess. Sadly, it won't be epic like Jamie Evans. This Harry doesn't lend himself to epic-ness.


End file.
